LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


"THE  TRAIL  LIFTED  ZIG-ZAG  OVER  THE  COYOTE  RANGE" 


-Page  283 


THE 

FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 


BY 


HONORE  WILLSIE 

Author  of  "The  Heart  of  the  Desert,"  "StillJim," 
"Lydia  of  the  Pines,"  etc. 


WITS  A  FRONTISPIECE   IN  COLOR  BY 
R.  EMMET  OWEN 


NEW  YORK 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


Copyright,  1919,  hy 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of  translation 
into  foreign  languages 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  DREAMER      ........       i 

II.     HOPES  DEFERRED 32 

III.  THE  NEW  DAY 52 

IV.  CHARLEY 81 

V.    VON  MINDEN 105 

VI.  THE  LETTER  FROM  WASHINGTON  .     .     .   130 

VII.    THE  RUNAWAY 151 

VIII.    THE  LONELY  HUNTER 176 

IX.    GUSTAV 186 

X.    DEATH  IN  THE  DESERT 206 

XL    DICK'S  SICKNESS 228 

XII.    DICKY'S  LAST  BOUT 249 

XIII.  THE  GREAT  DIVIDE 265 

XIV.  WASHINGTON 275 

XV.    RABBIT  TAIL'S  GANG 295 

XVI.    THE  RIVER  RANGE 314 

XVII.    THE  BLACK  Box 345 

XVIII.     PAPA  WOLF 358 


THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   DREAMER 

ROGER  was  only  seven.  He  was  tall  for  his  age 
and  very  thin.  He  had  a  thick  crop  of  black  hair 
and  his  eyes  were  large  and  precisely  the  color  of  the 
summer  sky  that  lifted  above  the  Moores'  back  yard. 
These  were  the  little  boy's  only  claims  to  beauty,  for 
even  at  this  time  Roger's  face  was  too  much  of  the 
intellectual  type  to  be  handsome.  Beauty  is  seldom 
intelligent.  Roger's  long,  thin  jaw,  his  thin,  thought 
ful  mouth,  his  high  forehead,  were  distinctly  of  the 
thinking,  dreaming  type. 

It  was  midsummer  and  Roger's  tanned  legs  and 
feet  were  bare  and  scratched  and  mosquito  bitten.  He 
wore  a  little  blue  gingham  sailor  suit,  which  was  much 
rumpled  and  soiled. 

Charlotte  was  five.  She  was  tall  for  her  age  too. 
In  fact  at  five  she  was  nearly  as  tall  as  Roger.  But 
she  was  not  as  thin  as  he.  She  had  large  brown  eyes 
of  astounding  depth  and  softness  and  bronze  brown 
hair  that  was  short  and  curly.  There  were  lovely 
curves  in  her  scarlet,  drooping  lips  and  a  fine  arch  to 
her  head  above  the  ears.  There  was  a  dimple  in  her 


2  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

round  chin.  She  sat  in  front  of  Roger  who  was 
astride  one  end  of  a  great  plank  that  was  upended  on 
a  barrel. 

'  You  go  over  and  get  Ernie  and  Elschen,  Charley," 
commanded  Roger  in  a  deep,  boyish  voice. 

"  I  won't ! "  returned  Charley,  succinctly,  crowding 
closer  to  Roger,  as  she  spoke. 

"  Well  now,  do  you  think  I'm  going  to  play  alone  all 
the  afternoon  with  a  baby?  "  roared  Roger.  "  You're 
too  little  to  work  this  teeter-tauter  with  me.  I'm  not 
going  to  stand  it,  I'm  not.  You  get  off !  " 

"  I  won't,"  repeated  Charley,  none  the  less  firmly 
that  the  red  lips  trembled.  "  I  runned  away  from  our 
house  to  play  with  you  and  I'm  going  to  play,  I  am." 
'  You  ain't  going  to  play  alone  and  Mamma  says  I 
gotta  take  you  home  in  half  an  hour  if  nobody  doesn't 
come  for  you." 

"  I  won't  go  home."  Charley  ended  this  time  with  a 
sob. 

"  Now  don't  bawl ! "  exclaimed  Roger,  in  alarm, 
twisting  the  little  girl's  head  around  so  that  he  could 
peer  into  her  face.  He  kissed  her  in  a  paternal  man 
ner.  "  Don't  bawl !  I'll  take  care  of  you." 

Charley  wiped  the  kiss  off  on  the  sleeve  of  her 
checked  gingham  dress  and  smiled.  Roger  left  the 
see-saw  and  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  board  fence. 

"  Ernie !  "  he  shouted  in  a  tone  that  sounded  through 
the  quiet  village  like  a  siren  horn.  "  Ernie !  You  and 
Elschen  come  on  over !  " 

Mrs.  Wolf  appeared  at  the  back  door  of  the  house 
next  door. 

"  Ernie  and  Elschen  are  doing  the  dishes.  When 
they  finish  they  will  be  over." 


THE  DREAMER  3 

"  Will  it  take  'em  long?  "  asked  Roger.     "  I  got  all 
my  chores  done." 

"  They're  nearly  done.     Here's  Elschen  ready  to  go 


now." 


"  It  was  my  turn  to  wipe,  so  I  got  through  quick. 
Ernie's  awful  mad,"  cried  a  small  girl,  scrambling 
hastily  over  the  fence. 

E»lsa  was  six.  She  was  short  and  plump,  an  almost 
perfect  miniature  of  her  pretty  mother,  who  stood 
smiling  in  the  doorway.  Her  hair  was  true  gold. 
While  it  was  not  curly  it  was  full  of  a  vitality  that  gave 
it  the  look  of  finely  spun  wire  as  it  stood  out  over  her 
head  in  a  bushy  mass.  She  was  red  of  cheek  and  blue 
of  eye,  a  jolly,  plucky  little  girl,  much  more  enterpris 
ing  and  pugnacious  than  Ernie,  who  followed  her 
shortly  over  the  fence. 

Ernest  was  Roger's  age  and  he  looked  so  much  like 
Elsa  that  a  stranger  might  have  thought  them  to  be 
twins. 

He  landed  with  a  thud.  "  Where'd  you  get  the 
teeter-tauter,  Roger  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  Don't  you  see,  you  old  ninny  ?  I  heaved  up  the 
plank  Papa  put  down  for  the  walk  to  the  clothes-reel, 
and  the  barrel,  I  sort-of  —  now  I  kind  of  borrowed 
that  out  of  the  Sauters'  barn.  I  guess  they  wouldn't 
care.  I  left  a  penny  on  the  barn  floor  to  pay  for  it. 
It's  the  strongest  barrel  I  most  ever  saw.  You  go  on 
the  other  end  and  Charley  and  I'll  stay  here.  Elschen, 
you  can  be  candlestick/' 

"  I  ain't  going  to  be  candlestick  very  long,  I  ain't. 
Not  for  you  old  boys,"  said  Elsa,  climbing,  however,  to 
the  place  assigned  her,  where  the  board  balanced  on  the 
barrel. 


4  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

The  children  see-sawed  amicably  for  perhaps  five 
minutes  when  Roger  roared  — 

"  Hey !  All  of  you  get  off !  I  got  to  fix  this 
better." 

"  I'm  not  agoing  to  move,"  replied  Elsa. 

"  I  ain't  agoing  to  move,"  agreed  Charley. 

"  Come  on,  you  girls,  get  off,"  cried  Ernie.  "  What 
you  going  to  do,  Roger?  " 

"Til  show  you!  If  you  girls  don't  get  off,  I'll 
dump  you,"  suiting  action  to  words,  as  he  tilted  the 
plank  sidewise.  Elsa  got  a  real  bump,  from  the  barrel 
to  the  ground.  Charley's  end  of  the  see-saw  was  on 
the  ground  so  she  scrambled  up  laughing.  Not  so  El- 
schen.  She  was  red  with  anger.  She  flew  at  Roger 
and  slapped  him  in  the  face. 

Roger  turned  white,  and  struck  back,  the  blow  catch 
ing  Elsa  in  the  stomach.  She  doubled  up  and  roared. 
Roger's  voice  rose  above  hers. 

"  I'll  kill  you  next  time !  I'll  kill  you,  you  low  down 
old  German  pig,  you." 

Slow  moving  little  Ernie  ran  to  put  his  arm  round 
Elsa. 

"  Don't  you  hit  my  sister  again,  Rog  Moore !  " 

Roger  jumped  up  and  down  and  kicked  the  barrel. 
"  You  get  out  of  my  yard !  I  hate  you  all !  " 

"Not  me,  Roger?"  cried  Charley,  anxiously,  run 
ning  up  to  take  his  hand. 

Curiously  enough  even  in  his  blind  passion,  the  boy 
clung  to  the  childish  fingers,  the  while  he  continued  to 
kick  the  barrel  and  to  roar, 

"I'll  kill  you,  Elsa!" 

The  screen  door  clicked  and  Mrs.  Moore  hurried 
down  the  back  steps.  She  was  very  tall  and  slender, 


THE  DREAMER  5 

with  Roger's  blue  eyes  and  a  mass  of  red  hair  piled 
high  on  her  head.  She  carried  one  of  Roger's  stock 
ings  with  a  darning  ball  in  the  toe  in  her  left  hand  and 
the  thimble  gleamed  on  the  middle  finger  of  her  right 
hand  as  she  put  it  on  Roger's  shoulder. 

"  Roger !  Roger !  You're  rousing  the  whole  neigh 
borhood!" 

Roger  struck  the  slender  hand  from  his  shoulder. 
"  I  hate  you  too.  Let  me  alone !  " 

Mrs.  Moore  turned  to  the  others.  "  Children,  take 
Charley  over  in  your  yard  for  a  little  while.  Roger  is 
being  a  very  bad  boy  and  I  must  punish  him." 

Roger  hung  back,  still  roaring,  but  his  mother 
dragged  him  into  the  kitchen.  Here  she  sat  down  in 
a  rocker  and  attempted  to  pull  him  into  her  lap,  but  he 
would  have  none  of  her.  He  threw  himself  sobbing 
on  the  floor  and  Mrs.  Moore  sat  looking  at  him  sadly. 

"  I  don't  know  what  we're  going  to  do  about  your 
temper,  Roger.  This  is  the  third  spell  you've  had  this 
week.  I  don't  see  why  the  children  play  with  you. 
Some  day  you  will  murder  some  one,  I'm  afraid.  I 
used  to  have  a  temper  when  I  was  a  child  but  I'm  cer 
tain  it  was  nothing  like  yours.  One  thing  I'm  sure  of, 
I  never  struck  my  dear  mother.  Thank  heaven,  I 
haven't  that  regret." 

Roger  wept  on. 

"  I've  tried  whipping  and  I've  tried  scolding.  Per 
haps  I'm  the  wrong  mother  for  you  — "  A  long  pause, 
during  which  Roger's  slender  body  did  not  cease  to 
writhe  in  sobs.  Then  his  mother  continued :  "  Poor 
little  Elschen,  that  was  an  awful  knock  you  gave  her ! 
I  shall  have  to  apologize  to  Mrs.  Wolf  again.  She's 
always  sweet  about  your  badness." 


6  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

She  began  work  on  the  stocking  once  more. 
Roger's  sobs  lessened  and  his  mother  rose  to  wet  a 
towel-end  and  bathe  his  face.  But  when  she  returned 
from  the  sink,  the  child  was  asleep,  his  head  pillowed 
on  his  arm.  It  was  thus  that  his  temper  storms  al 
ways  ended.  Mrs.  Moore  had  observed  that  when  she 
had  whipped  him  for  one  of  his  explosions,  he  always 
slept  much  longer  than  when  she  merely  allowed  him 
to  sob  himself  quiet.  So  though  his  father  still  advo 
cated  wrhipping,  she  had  concluded  that  whipping  led 
only  to  further  nerve  exhaustion  and  she  had  stopped 
that  form  of  punishment. 

Half  an  hour  later  Roger  rolled  over  on  his  back 
and  stared  for  a  moment  wide  eyed,  at  the  ceiling. 
Then  he  got  up  quickly  and  running  over  to  his  mother, 
he  threw  his  arms  about  her  neck  and  kissed  her  pas 
sionately. 

"  Oh,  Mother !  Mother !  I  love  you  so !  I'm  so 
sorry  I  slapped  your  hand.  I  will  be  good!  Oh,  I 
will  be  good !  " 

He  took  the  hand  which  he  had  struck  in  both  his 
own  and  kissed  it. 

"  Poor  hand,"  he  half  sobbed,  "  poor  hand !  " 

"  All  right,  dear,"  said  his  mother,  freeing  her  hand 
gently.  "  Now,  go  make  up  with  the  other  children." 

Roger  darted  out  the  door  and  his  mother  heard  him 
shouting  to  his  playmates. 

It  was  an  hour  later  that  she  went  to  the  back  door, 
to  send  Roger  home  with  Charley.  What  she  saw 
there  sent  her  flying  once  more  to  interfere  with  the 
children's  play.  Fastened  by  bits  of  rope  and  twine  to 
the  plank  were  her  three  choicest  sofa  cushions,  of 
white  silk  which  she  herself  had  embroidered.  A  child 


THE  DREAMER  7 

lay  on  its  stomach  on  each  of  these,  wildly  gesticulating 
with  legs  and  arms  while  Roger  played  the  garden 
hose  on  them. 

The  four  culprits  in  a  sodden  row  before  her,  Mrs. 
Moore  sought  counsel  from  Mrs.  Wolf,  who  had  come 
hurrying  at  her  neighbor's  call. 

"  What  shall  I  do  with  him  ?  It  was  his  idea,  he 
says." 

"  Sure  it  was,"  exclaimed  Roger  stoutly.  "  We 
were  shipwrecked  sailors.  The  tempest  had  raged  for 
three  days  like  in  '  Swiss  Family  Robinson.' ' 

"  But  why  did  you  get  the  sofa  cushions  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Wolf. 

"  Oh,  that  was  my  invention  to  make  the  teeter- 
tauter  more  comfortable.  Then  they  made  nice  waves 
for  us  to  rest  our  stomachs  on  when  we  swam." 

"  You  knew  how  I  prize  those  cushions.  That  one 
with  the  roses  took  me  all  last  winter  to  do,"  said 
Roger's  mother  sternly. 

"I  —  I  —  yes,  I  kind  of  knew,  but  I  forgot.  I  al 
ways  forget  when  I'm  inventing.  Don't  I,  Ern?  " 

Ern  nodded  and  put  his  arm  over  Roger's  shoulder. 

"  I  must  try  to  help  you  to  remember,  little  son." 
Mrs.  Moore  sighed.  "  For  three  days  you  cannot  play 
with  Ernie  and  Elschen." 

Instantly  a  howl  rose  from  the  two  little  Wolfs. 
!( We  can't  play  without  Roger !  It  was  our  fault 
too ! " 

"  Indeed,  that's  too  hard  on  all  of  them,  Mrs.  Moore. 
We'll  have  bedlam  for  three  days,"  protested  Mrs. 
Wolf. 

"  But  he's  always  losing  his  temper  and  hurting  your 
children,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Moore. 


8  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  But  he  keeps  them  interested,  anyhow,"  replied  the 
little  German  mother.  "  They  never  ask  to  go  away 
when  Roger  is  with  them.  There's  something  so  lov 
able  about  him  in  spite  of  his  temper." 

"  He  hit  me  in  my  poor  little  belly  — "  began  El- 
schen. 

"  Elschen !  "  shrieked  her  mother. 

"  Stomach,"  Elschen  substituted  hastily.  "  My  poor 
little  stomach.  But  I  don't  care,  I  love  him  anyhow." 

"But  how  about  my  sofa  pillows?"  asked  Mrs. 
Moore. 

"  We'll  give  you  the  money  out  of  our  banks,"  said 
Ernie. 

Elsa  jumped  up  and  down.  "  So  we  will !  And 
you  too,  Roger !  " 

"  Sure  I  will.     And  I'll  iron  the  roses  out  for  you." 

The  two  mothers  looked  at  each  other  with  a  glim 
mer  of  a  smile  in  light  and  dark  blue  eyes. 

"  You  can  each  put  a  quarter  in  the  Sunday  School 
contribution  box  next  Sunday  and  we'll  call  it  square. 
Do  you  agree,  Mrs.  Wolf  ?  "  Then  as  her  little  neigh 
bor  nodded,  Roger's  mother  went  on.  "  Go  change 
your  wet  suit,  Roger,  and  take  Charley  home.  Lend 
me  some  of  Elschen's  little  things  for  her,  Mrs.  Wolf. 
The  child  is  soaked." 

"  Mamma !  That's  a  mile  out  to  Trebles',"  roared 
Roger. 

His  mother  looked  at  him,  completely  out  of  pa 
tience.  "  Well,  Roger!  after  this  afternoon's  various 
performances !  " 

"Oh,  I'll  go!"  cried  Roger  hastily.  "I  was  just 
talking,  that  was  all !  "  and  he  fled  to  the  house. 

Roger  and  Charley,  hand  in  hand,  trailed  up  the 


THE  DREAMER  9 

street  in  the  haphazard  manner  of  childhood.  The 
Prebles  lived  on  a  farm  half  a  mile  beyond  the  limits 
of  the  town  of  Eagle's  Wing.  The  board  walk  ended 
not  far  beyond  the  Moores'  house  and  the  children 
automatically  chose  the  center  of  the  road  where  the 
dust  was  deepest.  By  scuffling  their  bare  feet  con 
tinuously  they  managed  to  travel  most  of  the  distance 
to  the  farm  in  a  cloud  of  dust  which  Roger  explained 
was  a  deep  sea  fog. 

Dick  Preble  met  them  at  the  door  of  the  farm  house. 
Dick  was  a  stocky  boy  of  ten  with  a  freckled  face  sur 
mounted  by  a  thatch  of  sandy  hair. 

"  Charley!  Where  have  you  been?  We  thought 
you  were  asleep  upstairs.  Mamma  was  just  getting 
scared.  And  whose  clothes  have  you  got  on?  " 

Charley  rushed  headlong  past  her  brother,  shrieking 
for  her  mother,  while  Roger  struggled  with  his  ex 
planation  of  certain  of  the  afternoon's  complications. 
"  Gee !  "  was  Dick's  comment,  "  I'll  bet  Charley  gets 
the  paddle  whacks  for  running  away." 

*  You  weren't  thinking  of  driving  into  town,  were 
you  ?  "  asked  Roger. 

"  Naw,  lazy  bones!  You  can  just  foot  it,  after 
half  drowning  my  sister." 

"  You  better  keep  your  old  sister  home  then,"  re 
plied  Roger,  starting  for  the  gate. 

It  was  a  long  walk  for  seven-year  legs.  Roger  was 
considerably  less  active  on  the  return  trip  than  he  had 
been  plowing  through  the  sea  fog  on  his  way  out.  But 
his  mind  was  hard  at  work. 

"  It  would  be  nice  to  have  a  railroad  all  the  way  out 
to  Prebles'.  One  that  just  us  children  could  use- — 
under  the  road.  And  I'd  have  little  doors  that  would 


10  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

open  up  in  the  road  and  we'd  peek  out.  And  if  we  saw 
any  grown  ups  coming  we'd  close  the  door  quick.  I'd 
be  the  engineer  and  Ernie  the  fireman.  And  we 
wouldn't  have  that  old  Dick  at  all.  He's  too  big  and 
cross.  The  girls  could  ride  if  they'd  behave  and  run 
errands  for  us.  Let's  see.  We'd  have  to  dig  it  out 
first.  Then  we'd  want  ties  and  rails  and  a  little  engine. 
I  wonder  how  much  it  would  cost.  But  it  would  be 
very  useful.  'Specially  if  we  let  Mr.  Preble  send  his 
corn  to  town  on  it.  He  wouldn't  have  so  much  trouble 
with  his  hired  men  if  they  could  ride  on  my  engine, 
I  bet." 

This  delectable  dream,  with  infinite  variations,  car 
ried  Roger  home.  Supper  was  on  the  table  and  Mr. 
Moore  was  already  in  his  place.  A  thin  man,  Roger's 
father,  with  a  deeply  lined  face  and  good  gray  eyes, 
under  a  thatch  of  iron  gray  hair.  He  was  a  master 
mechanic,  now  owner  of  a  little  factory  which  turned 
out  plowshares.  Moore  had  devised  machinery  which 
enabled  him  to  turn  out  plowshares  of  a  superior  qual 
ity,  in  greater  quantity  and  at  a  cheaper  rate  than  any 
of  his  larger  competitors  in  neighboring  states.  His 
was  only  a  small  concern,  employing  twenty-five  or 
thirty  men,  but  even  this  made  Moore  the  chief  manu 
facturer  of  the  town  of  Eagle's  Wing,  whose  only 
other  glory  was  that  it  housed  the  state  university. 
The  members  of  the  college  faculty  did  not  recognize 
many  of  the  town  people  socially.  But  Dean  Erskine, 
the  young  new  dean  of  the  School  of  Engineering,  had 
visited  the  plow  factory  and  had  been  so  enthusiastic 
over  Moore  and  his  work  that  he  had  come  a  number 
of  times  to  the  house,  bringing  Mrs.  Erskine  with  him. 
Factory  management  was  a  new  theme  in  these  days 


THE  DREAMER  11 

and  Dean  Erskine  found  Roger's  father  open  minded 
to  his  theories. 

"  Well,  old  son,  have  you  been  a  good  boy  to-day?  " 
asked  Mr.  Moore  as  Roger  slid  into  his  place  at  the 
table. 

"  No,  sir.  I've  been  pretty  bad.  Say,  Papa,  how 
much  would  it  cost  to  build  a  railroad,  under  the 
ground,  from  our  house  to  Trebles'  ?  " 

"  A  good  deal  of  money.  What  way  were  you  bad, 
Rog?" 

"  Oh,  about  every  way,  temper  and  all.  Papa,  I 
guess  I'll  build  that  railroad.  I  got  a  big  piece  of  pipe 
and  a  gauge  that  might  work.  Guess  I  might  begin  to 
make  a  engine.  Aren't  I  a  pretty  good  inventor, 
Papa?" 

"  I  don't  know,  Son.  Nothing  you've  ever  said  or 
done  makes  me  think  you're  one  yet.  In  the  first  place 
an  inventor  is  the  most  patient  animal  in  the  world. 
An  inventor  just  can't  lose  his  temper.  Why  don't 
you  begin  by  inventing  a  way  to  control  your  temper, 
Son?" 

Roger  subsided  into  his  bowl  of  bread  and  milk. 

Mr.  Moore  was  smoking  on  the  front  porch  when 
Mrs.  Moore  joined  him  after  putting  Roger  to  bed. 
She  sat  down  on  the  steps  beside  him  while  she  told 
him  of  Roger's  day. 

"  He's  so  contrite  and  so  sweet,  after  one  of  his  pas 
sions  !  "  she  said.  "  And  yet,  well,  maybe  it's  his  age, 
but  he's  so  sort  of  casual  about  his  temper.  To-night, 
for  instance,  after  he'd  said  the  Lord's  Prayer,  he 
added,  '  And  please  God,  help  me  to  find  some  pipe 
to  make  that  engine  and  some  rails  too.  And  bless 
Charley,  she's  so  little.  And  bless  Mamma  and  Papa. 


12  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

And  Lord,  you  might  do  something  about  my  temper 
if  you  have  time.  Amen/  ' 

The  father  and  mother  laughed  together,  then  Mr. 
Moore  said,  "  I  do  hope  the  boy  will  keep  up  his  inter 
est  in  mechanics.  It's  the  coming  game  for  real  he- 
men.  The  world's  going  to  turn  into  a  big  machine. 
The  way  things  are  going  now  with  me,  I'll  have  a  real 
place  for  the  boy  when  he  finishes  school.  Dean  Ers- 
kine's  about  persuaded  me  to  let  him  go  to  college. 
I've  been  dead  set  against  a  college  engineer  until  I  met 
Erskine.  He's  made  me  feel  as  I'd  have  had  less  of  an 
uphill  pull  if  I'd  gone  to  engineering  school,  and  he 
says  I've  made  him  feel  as  if  he  never  had  enough  shop 
practice." 

Moore  stopped  to  chuckle.  Then  he  went  on,  after 
refilling  his  pipe,  "  Yes,  machinery  is  the  greatest  thing 
in  the  world.  I  took  on  five  more  men  to-day, 
Mamma.  All  union  men.  I've  decided  to  give  in  on 
that  point  and  have  a  strictly  union  shop." 

"  I  think  you're  right,"  said  Mrs.  Moore.  "  After 
all  the  union  is  the  working  man's  only  protection." 

Moore  grunted.  "  I  don't  care  so  much  about  the 
right  of  it  as  I  do  the  expediency.  And  I  haven't  time 
to  buck  the  union." 

"  You've  changed  a  lot  since  you  left  off  working 
with  your  hands,"  commented  his  wife,  noncommit- 
tally. 

"  A  man  has  to  change  his  point  of  view  when  he 
becomes  an  employer  instead  of  an  employee.  Old 
girl,  we're  on  our  way  up  the  ladder  and  nothing  but 
old  Grim,  himself,  can  stop  us.  And  when  I  came  in 
from  the  old  farm,  when  I  was  twelve  years  old,  I  had 
only  my  two  hands  and  the  clothes  I  stood  in." 


THE  DREAMER  13 

"  You've  been  wonderful!  "  murmured  Mrs.  Moore. 
"  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Wolf  has  done  well  too.  His 
wife  said  he  couldn't  speak  a  word  of  English  when  he 
came  to  this  country  —  at  just  twelve,  too,  and  now 
he's  manager  of  the  Grand  Dry  Goods  Company/' 

"  He's  a  nice  fellow  with  a  mighty  pretty  wife." 

It  was  Mrs.  Moore's  turn  to  grunt,  which  she  did, 
in  the  manner  of  a  wifely  sniff.  And  the  two 
sat  in  silence,  hands  clasped  in  the  lovely  summer 
night. 

After  all,  Roger  did  not  get  beyond  a  first  attempt 
at  the  railroad  building.  He  began  the  tunnel  the  next 
day,  he  and  the  two  little  Wolfs  digging  vigorously 
until  a  hole  as  large  as  a  bath  tub  was  completed. 
While  resting  from  this  toil,  Roger  conceived  the  idea 
of  making  a  wading  pool,  with  the  aid  of  the  hose. 
Some  vague  lesson  won  from  previous  experience  made 
him  ask  permission  of  his  mother  and  this  given,  the 
three  children  spent  an  ecstatic,  though  muddy,  day  in 
the  improvised  pond. 

Roger's  father  suggested  that  evening  that  the  pool 
be  gradually  enlarged  to  make  a  swimming  pool.  He 
enlisted  Mr.  Wolf's  aid  for  the  summer  evenings  and 
in  a  couple  of  weeks  a  very  creditable  pool,  brick  and 
concrete  lined,  made  a  summer  heaven  of  the  back 
yard  for  the  little  friends. 

It  was  the  pool  that  made  this  summer  perhaps  the 
most  memorable  one  of  Roger's  childhood.  It  was  the 
one,  anyway,  to  which  in  after  years  his  mind  harked 
back  with  the  most  pleasure  and  with  the  greatest  fre 
quency. 

Even  little  Charley  learned  to  swim.  Roger  never 
was  to  forget  her  slender  beauty,  as  she  stood  ready 


H  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

for  her  dive  on  the  pool  edge.  This  was  his  last  mem 
ory  of  the  little  girl,  for  the  Prebles  gave  up  farming 
that  fall  and  moved  away.  Somebody  said  that  Mr. 
Preble  drank  up  his  farm,  which  at  the  time  seemed 
mere  nonsense  to  Roger. 

Roger's  tenth  summer  was  memorable  too.  But  he 
ceased  to  think  of  himself  as  a  child  then,  because  that 
was  the  summer  his  mother  had  typhoid  fever  and  all 
summer  long  he  was  practically  his  own  man.  His 
father  could  give  him  no  time,  for  there  was  a  strike 
in  the  factory  that  lasted  during  the  six  weeks  that 
Mrs.  Moore  was  the  sickest.  The  night  that  his 
mother  was  passing  through  her  crisis,  men  threw 
stones  in  the  kitchen  windows. 

Mrs.  Moore  believed  that  she  was  going  to  die. 
One  day  when  her  mind  was  clear,  despite  her  deathly 
weakness,  she  made  them  leave  the  little  boy  alone 
with  her  while  she  told  him  of  her  consuming  anxiety 
over  his  temper.  And  she  talked  to  him  too  about  a 
motherless  young  manhood  and  how  he  must  try  to 
keep  clean  and  straight.  She  made  him  promise  that 
if  any  of  the  facts  of  life  puzzled  him,  he  would  go  to 
his  father  and  not  let  naughty  minded  little  boys  tell 
him  bad  stories.  Then  while  Roger  sobbed,  she  fell 
asleep  and  when  she  woke  she  was  definitely  better. 
But  Roger  never  felt  like  a  child  again.  He  felt  that 
he  knew  all  that  men  knew  about  life,  and  death  as 
well. 

Mrs.  Moore  never  was  really  strong  again.  Their 
keeping  a  servant  dated  from  that  summer  and  so  did 
a  little  electric  car,  the  first  one  in  Eagle's  Wing.  Yes, 
perhaps  this  was  as  memorable  a  summer  as  Roger's 
seventh.  Yet  it  lacked  the  magic  and  the  beauty  that 


THE  DREAMER  15 

made  imperishable  the  joy  of  the  swimming  pool 
summer. 

And  then  came  his  fourteenth  summer. 

Roger  was  a  strapping  big  lad  at  fourteen.  He  was 
as  tall  as  his  father,  who  was  five  feet  ten,  and  was  still 
growing  rapidly.  He  was  thin  but  hard-muscled,  with 
good  shoulders  that  were  not  as  awkward  as  they 
looked.  After  a  year  of  pleading,  his  father  agreed 
to  let  him  spend  his  vacation  in  the  plow  factory ;  and 
Roger  in  overalls,  his  dinner  pail  in  hand,  was  his 
father's  pride  and  his  mother's  despair.  She  did  like 
to  see  her  only  child  well  dressed. 

Ernest's  father  wanted  Ernie  to  come  into  the  store 
that  summer.  But  after  his  years  under  Roger's  tute 
lage,  Ernie  was  all  for  mechanics,  so  he  too  acquired 
overalls  and  a  dinner  pail  and  went  into  the  plow  fac 
tory.  Elschen  was  broken  hearted  because  there  was 
no  way  in  which  she  also  could  become  a  wage  earner. 

The  university  lay  at  the  south  end  of  the  little  town. 
The  plow  factory,  now  employing  two  hundred  men, 
lay  at  the  north  end.  Jim  Hale,  the  chief  engineer, 
blew  the  whistle  every  morning  at  seven  o'clock  and 
again  at  five  o'clock.  There  was  an  hour  off  for  din 
ner  pails  at  twelve.  A  nine  hour  day,  a  few  years 
ago,  was  not  considered  a  long  day,  that  is,  not  by  em 
ployers  of  labor.  That  the  employees  were  beginning 
to  feel  differently,  Roger  was  to  learn  that  summer  in 
a  manner  that  was  to  shape  his  whole  life. 

The  workmen  were  of  a  type  little  known  now  in 
our  big  industrial  centers.  Without  exception  they 
were  North  Europeans :  Germans,  Norwegians,  Swedes 
and  Danes.  About  fifty  per  cent,  of  them  were  for 
eign  born.  The  rest  of  them  were  American  born.  A 


i6  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

good  many  of  the  German  born  had  not  taken  out  first 
citizenship  papers,  but  the  Norwegians  and  Swedes 
had  done  so,  so  had  the  Danes.  Enough  of  them  had 
a  certain  amount  of  pride  in  their  work  to  make  the 
factory  an  interesting  and  profitable  place  for  a  boy  to 
serve  his  first  apprenticeship  in.  Practically  all  mar 
ried  men  in  the  factory  wanted  to  settle  permanently  in 
Eagle's  Wing  and  send  their  children  through  the 
town's  splendid  schools.  A  majority  of  them  planned 
to  send  their  sons  through  the  State  University. 

John  Moore  had  a  good  eye  for  men.  He  had  built 
up  an  apparently  solid  and  permanent  organization. 
Yet  for  all  his  keen  eye,  the  more  successful  he  became, 
and  the  larger  his  business,  the  more  incapable  he  grew 
of  winning  his  men's  liking.  He  had  worked  unbe 
lievably  hard  from  his  boyhood  up.  He  had  given 
himself  to  his  work  without  stint.  He  had  no  sym 
pathy  with  any  of  his  employees  who  would  do  less. 
His  wage,  as  a  mechanic,  had  never  exceeded  two 
seventy-five  a  day.  He  bitterly  resented  any  man's 
wanting  more. 

Moore  was  the  entire  brains  of  his  factory.  He  was 
his  own  manager,  his  own  superintendent,  his  own  pur 
chasing  and  sales  agent  —  a  man  of  splendid  mind, 
hidebound  by  the  egotism  and  prejudices  of  the  self- 
made  man.  At  fifty,  he  was  going  at  his  highest  speed, 
every  nerve  taut,  ready  to  break  at  the  least  disturbance 
of  the  load. 

Roger  admired  his  father  with  a  blind  idolatry  that 
was  quite  foreign  to  his  ordinary  mental  attitude.  He 
was  naturally  critical  of  men  and  things.  To  be  a 
forge  boy  in  his  father's  factory  was  to  Roger  to  be 
touching  the  skirts  of  real  greatness. 


THE  DREAMER  17 

"  Father,"  he  said  one  night  at  supper,  "  I  had  a  row 
with  Ole  Oleson  to-day." 

"Which  Ole  Oleson?"  asked  his  father.  "There 
are  nine  of  them  in  the  factory." 

"  The  second  forge  foreman.  His  girl  Olga  is  in 
my  grade  at  school." 

His  father  nodded.  "  What  was  the  row  about  ? 
As  I  warned  you,  Rog,  if  I  catch  you  with  the  lid  off 
that  temper  of  yours,  I'll  treat  you  exactly  as  I  would 
any  other  employee." 

"  But  you  didn't  catch  me,  this  time ! "  Roger 
grinned.  He  had  fine  white  teeth  and  his  eyes  were 
still  the  wonderful  sky  blue  of  his  childhood.  "  Ole 
said  you  were  as  hard  as  one  of  the  plowshares  and 
that  some  day  the  men  would  soften  you  like  they  take 
temper  out  of  steel  and  that  then  you'd  never  be  any 
good  again." 

John  Moore  snorted.  "  And  you  let  the  fool  get  a 
rise  out  of  you,  of  course !  " 

"  I  knocked  him  down.'* 

"And  what  did  he  do?" 

"  He  knocked  me  down." 

"  Then  what?  "  asked  Moore. 

:{  We  shook  hands  and  went  to  work  again."  Roger 
grinned  at  his  mother's  horrified  face. 

"  I'd  have  fired  you  both  if  I'd  seen  it,"  said  his 
father.  ;<  You  were  late  again  this  morning,  Son. 
Remember  you're  docked  for  that." 

"  Anyhow,"  Roger  went  on  without  noting  appar 
ently  his  father's  warning,  "  he  got  confidential,  while 
we  were  eating  dinner,  and  told  me  that  if  you  didn't 
give  them  an  increase  they  were  going  on  a  strike  that 
would  make  you  sit  up  and  take  notice.  He  says  you 


18  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

won't  give  the  increase  so  the  strike's  due  about  the 
middle  of  July." 

"  Oh,  the  fools !  "  exclaimed  John  Moore.  "  I  can't 
have  a  strike  now  with  that  big  Russian  order  to  fill. 
That  order  makes  or  mars  me." 

"  Then  you'll  give  'em  the  raise !  That's  good !  " 
Roger  gave  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  Raise  nothing !  Why,  I  can't  raise  them !  Roger, 
you're  old  enough  to  begin  to  understand  these  things. 
The  only  way  I'm  able  to  compete  with  the  trust  is  by 
working  on  such  a  narrow  margin  of  profit  that  it 
makes  their  overhead  look  like  Standard  Oil  profits. 
So  far  they've  let  my  patents  alone,  chiefly,  I  suppose, 
because  my  machinery  is  efficient  only  for  the  compara 
tively  small  output.  I  never  have  been  able  to  accumu 
late  much  working  capital.  A  protracted  strike  would 
put  me  out  of  business.  On  the  other  hand  a  material 
increase  in  wage  would  kill  that  Russian  contract  and 
I've  already  borrowed  money  on  it." 

"  Roger,  you  shouldn't  have  told  your  father  that 
when  he  was  tired,"  said  Mrs.  Moore,  handing  her 
husband  his  third  cup  of  tea. 

"  Don't  be  a  goose,  Alice,"  returned  Roger's  father. 
"  What  are  they  going  to  ask  for,  Son?  " 

"  A  minimum  of  three  dollars  a  day  and  eight 
hours." 

"  Then  I'm  finished!  "  exclaimed  Moore,  setting  his 
lips. 

"  Why  don't  you  tell  them  when  they  come  to  you 
just  what  you've  told  me?"  asked  Roger.  "  They'll 
understand." 

"  They  won't  believe  a  word  of  it.  Nobody  knows 
so  much  about  a  business  as  one  of  the  workmen.  And 


THE  DREAMER  19 

the  poorer  the  workman  the  more  he  knows.  I  think 
I'll  go  up  to  see  the  Dean." 

Roger  and  his  mother  sat  late  on  the  porch,  while 
Mr.  Moore  conferred  with  his  friend.  Mrs.  Moore 
summed  up  her  own  feelings  on  the  matter  of  the 
strike  when  she  said  just  as  Roger  started  for  bed: 

"  Well,  as  far  as  I'm  concerned,  I've  never  been  so 
happy  as  I  was  when  your  father  was  just  a  plain 
mechanic,  earning  his  two  and  a  half  or  so  a  day  and 
with  no  responsibility  except  to  do  his  work  well. 
Ever  since  he's  been  his  own  boss,  he's  been  changing. 
I  don't  feel  as  if  he  were  the  same  man  I  married.  And 
what  does  he  get  out  of  it?  Worry,  worry,  fuss,  fuss. 
I  tell  you,  Roger,  my  dear,  I've  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  more  complicated  life  gets,  the  less  happiness 
there  is  in  it." 

Roger  bent  and  kissed  his  mother.  "  Maybe  I'll 
feel  like  that  when  I'm  older,"  he  said,  "  but  I  don't 
now.  And  I  guess  Father  likes  the  worry.  It's  like 
playing  a  game.  I'm  going  to  get  into  it,  you  bet,  just 
as  soon  as  I  get  through  school." 

His  mother  made  no  reply. 

On  the  morning  of  July  fifteenth,  a  delegation  of 
three  workmen  waited  on  John  Moore  in  his  office. 
They  made  exactly  the  demands  that  Roger  had  re 
ported  and  they  received  the  same  reply  that  Roger  had 
received,  with  just  about  the  same  amount  of  detail  as 
to  the  running  of  the  business.  The  strike  was  sched 
uled  to  begin  on  the  first  day  of  August. 

Roger  and  Ernest,  plugging  away  at  the  forge,  heard 
the  men's  side  constantly.  At  night  Roger  heard  his 
father's.  At  first,  naturally  enough,  both  boys'  sym 
pathies  were  all  with  Roger's  father.  Then,  because 


20  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

he  was  now  a  working  man  himself,  Roger  began  to 
notice  that  his  father  had  brutal  ways  with  the  men. 
Three  or  four  times  a  day  Moore  always  went  through 
the  factory.  A  careless  mechanic  would  receive  a 
cursing  that,  it  suddenly  occurred  to  Roger,  no  real 
man  ought  to  endure.  The  least  infringement  of  the 
factory  rules  was  punished  to  the  limit  by  a  system  of 
fines.  Moore  drove  the  men  as  relentlessly  as  he 
drove  himself.  This  aspect  of  his  father  Roger  nat 
urally  never  discussed  with  his  chum,  but  he  spoke  of 
it  to  his  father  on  the  morning  of  the  first  of  August 
as  they  made  their  way  to  the  factory. 

"  They  think  you  feel  to  them  just  like  you  do  to  a 
machine  and  it  makes  them  sore,  all  the  time,"  said 
the  boy. 

"  Heavens !  what  do  they  want  ?  Must  I  kiss  them 
good  morning?  "  exclaimed  Moore. 

Roger  laughed.  "  No,  but  I  know  what  they  mean. 
I've  seen  you  when  you  talked  as  though  you  owned 
them  —  and  not  that  either.  It's  sort  of  like  if  you 
could  recollect  their  names,  you'd  hate  'em." 

"  Shucks,  Rog !  You're  getting  beyond  your 
depth !  "  said  his  father. 

The  seven  o'clock  whistle  did  not  blow  that  hot 
August  morning.  All  the  neighborhood  of  the  factory 
was  full  of  lounging  men  with  clean  faces  and  hands. 
It  was  like  Sunday.  Ernest  went  to  work  in  his  fa 
ther's  store.  Roger  spent  the  morning  in  the  office 
with  his  father.  In  the  afternoon  he  circulated  among 
the  men.  At  first  many  of  them  resented  this.  Natu 
rally  enough  they  looked  on  the  boy  as  his  father's  spy. 

But  Moore  had  nothing  to  conceal  nor  had  the  men. 
Roger  was  intelligent  and  thoughtful  far  beyond  his 


THE  DREAMER  21 

years,  and  little  by  little  the  men  got  in  the  habit  of 
debating  with  him  the  merits  of  the  case. 

Roger  forgot  that  summer  that  he  was  a  boy.  Even 
at  Saturday  afternoon  baseball,  his  mind  was  strug 
gling  with  a  problem  whose  ramifications  staggered  his 
immature  mind. 

Ole  Oleson,  the  forge  boss,  talked  more  intelligibly, 
Roger  thought,  than  any  of  the  others.  There  was  a 
bench  outside  the  picket  fence  that  surrounded  Ole's 
house,  and  Ole's  house  was  not  a  stone's  throw  from 
the  forge  shed.  Here  nearly  every  afternoon  Ole, 
with  some  of  the  strike  leaders,  would  gather,  and 
when  not  throwing  quoits  in  front  of  the  shed,  they 
would  talk  of  the  strike. 

Roger,  his  heavy  black  hair  tossed  back  from  his 
face,  his  blue  eyes  thoughtful,  his  boyish  lips  com 
pressed  in  the  effort  to  understand,  seldom  missed  a 
session.  The  strike  had  lasted  nearly  a  month  when 
he  said  to  Ole. 

"  My  father  says  that  if  the  strike  isn't  over  in  two 
weeks,  he's  ruined." 

"  That's  a  dirty  lie ! "  exclaimed  a  German  named 
Emil. 

Before  Roger's  ready  fist  could  land,  Ole  had  pulled 
the  boy  back  to  the  bench. 

"  What's  the  good  of  that !  "  said  Ole.  "  Emil,  this 
kid's  no  liar.  Don't  be  so  free  with  your  gab." 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  moments.  The  group 
of  men  on  the  bench  stared  obstinately  at  the  boy  Roger 
and  Roger  stared  at  the  group  of  factory  buildings. 
Unpretentious  buildings  they  were,  of  wood  or  brick, 
one-story  and  rambling.  John  Moore  had  bought  in 
marsh  land  and  as  he  slowly  reclaimed  it  by  filling  with 


22  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

ashes  from  his  furnaces,  he  as  slowly  added  to  the  floor 
space  of  his  factory.  Roger  could  remember  the  erec 
tion  of  every  addition,  excepting  the  first,  which  was 
made  when  he  was  only  a  baby.  He  knew  what  the 
factory  meant  to  John  Moore  and  with  sudden  bitter 
ness  he  cried, 

"  I  don't  see  what  good  it  will  do  you  to  ruin  my 
father !  " 

"  'Twon't  do  us  no  good,"  returned  Ole.  "  He 
ain't  going  to  be  ruined.  Look  here  already,  Rog.  I 
got  a  girl,  your  age.  She  goes  in  your  class.  What 
kind  of  girl  is  she?  " 

"  She's  a  smart  girl.  Smart  as  lightning,"  answered 
Roger. 

Ole  nodded.  "  Sure  she  is.  Now  Emil,  he's  got 
two  boys  and  three  girls.  Canute,  over  there,  you've 
got  three  little  girls,  ain't  you  ?  Yes  —  and  Oscar,  you 
got  one  boy,  and  John  Moore,  he's  got  one  boy.  Now, 
listen  once,  Rog.  I  tell  you  about  myself  and  that 
tells  you  about  all  of  us  here. 

"  I  am  born  in  Norway,  the  youngest  of  nine,  and 
when  I  am  ten  years  my  folks  come  to  America.  They 
come  to  give  their  children  a  chance  to  live  comfortable 
and  not  have  to  work  like  dogs  all  the  time,  just  to  keep 
alive.  All  right.  They  come  here  to  this  town.  My 
father  gets  a  job  and  my  big  brothers  get  a  job  and  we 
all  do  fine.  They  put  me  into  school  and  my  father 
says  I  can  go  clean  through  the  University.  Then  he 
dies  and  my  brothers  all  marry  and  when  I  have  just 
one  year  in  the  High  School  I  have  to  quit  and  go  to 
work. 

"-All  right!  I  get  a  job  in  a  machine  shop  where  a 
fellow  named  John  Moore  has  a  machine  next  to  mine. 


THE  DREAMER  23 

He's  a  good  smart  fellow.  We're  good  friends,  many 
years.  But  he  has  a  good  education." 

"  He  has  not !  "  interrupted  Roger,  flatly.  "  He's 
never  been  in  school  since  he  was  twelve  and  he's  sup 
ported  himself  ever  since  he  was  twelve." 

"  He's  educated  all  the  same,"  insisted  Ole. 

"  He  taught  himself  everything  he  knows,"  Roger 
cried. 

"  All  right !  All  right !  Anyhow,  he  makes  a  new 
kind  of  a  machine  and  takes  his  savings  and  starts  to 
make  plowshares,  ten  a  day,  over  in  that  little  brick 
house,  there.  And  he  works  like  the  very  devil. 
Why?  Why,  so  that  little  Roger  Moore  that's  come 
along  can  have  it  easier  than  he  had.  Same  as  I'm 
working  for  my  little  Olga  and  same  as  Canute  and 
Emil  and  Oscar  is  working." 

"  That's  only  part  of  it,  with  father,  anyhow,"  Roger 
exclaimed.  "  Of  course,  he's  ambitious  for  me,  but, 
you  see,  he  has  these  ideas  inside  of  him  that  have  to 
come  out.  He'd  have  done  it  if  I'd  never  been  born." 

"  He  does  it  so's  his  children  gets  ahead.  Every 
married  man's  that  way.  Otherwise,  why  work?" 
This  was  Emil's  contribution. 

"  All  right,"  Ole  pushed  on.  "  Anyhow  first  thing 
I  know  I'm  working  for  John  Moore  and  he's  getting 
ahead  while  I'm  staying  in  the  same  old  place,  same  old 
pay.  And  now  listen.  Already,  when  he  gets  ahead 
he  changes.  He  gets  bossy  and  ugly.  Seems  like  a 
man  can't  be  a  boss  without  changing,  without  getting 
so  he  curses  the  fellow  he  bosses.  And  Emil  and 
Oscar  and  Canute  and  I  and  all  of  us  say,  *  Here's 
Moore  getting  ahead.  His  boy  goes  through  the  uni 
versity  on  what  Moore  makes  us  earn  him.  He  has  a 


24  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

hired  girl  for  his  wife.  Now  our  children  can't  go  to 
the  university  on  what  Moore  pays  us.  And  our  wives 
can't  keep  a  hired  girl.  Moore  couldn't  earn  a  cent 
without  us.  He's  got  to  give  us  enough  of  what  we 
earn  him  so's  we  can  live  easy  as  he  does.' ' 

"  He  don't  live  easy,"  retorted  Roger.  "  You  ought 
to  see  him.  He  works  harder  than  any  of  you,  day 
and  night,  he  never  stops.  My  mother's  always  com 
plaining  that  she's  lost  him.  And  if  he's  your  age, 
Ole,  he  looks  ten  years  older.  I  tell  you  carrying  that 
factory  is  an  awful  load.  None  of  you  folks  could 
run  it.  You  haven't  got  the  brains.  Father  ought  to 
be  the  big  earner.  He's  got  the  big  brains." 

"  He  can  be  the  big  earner,"  said  Canute,  a  thin, 
slow  speaking  Dane,  "  if  he  gives  us  a  chance  to  save 
and  enough  time  to  enjoy  a  little  every  day  the  sunshine 
and  make  gardens  or  bowl  or  play  with  our  children. 
That's  what  we  came  to  America  to  get  and,  by  God, 
we're  going  to  get  it." 

"  He  doesn't  get  it."  Roger  spoke  with  an  unboy- 
ish  sadness  in  his  voice.  "  That  factory  has  him  body 
and  soul.  I  don't  see  what's  the  use." 

Again  there  was  silence.  Then  Ole  said,  "  I  guess 
the  thing  that  makes  me  hate  him  is  how  he's  changed 
already.  Look,  Rog,  I'm  an  American  citizen.  I 
can't  have  any  man  curse  me  like  I  was  a  slave.  No 
money  can  pay  for  it.  And  one  reason  this  strike's 
going  to  hang  on  till  your  father  gives  in  is  because 
he  don't  know  how  to  boss  men.  And  they  all  hate 
him." 

"  And  envy  him!  "  cried  Roger. 

"  Sure,"  agreed  Emil.  "  Envy  him,  we  do.  That's 
why  we're  striking." 


THE  DREAMER  25 

"  And  supposing  the  factory  goes  out  of  business?  " 
Roger  asked.  "  You'll  all  have  to  move  away  or  take 
any  old  job.  This  is  the  only  factory  in  this  town." 

Ole  laughed.  "  Your  father's  got  you  bluffed  too, 
Rog." 

"  You'll  see !  "  returned  Roger,  through  his  white 
teeth.  "You'll  see."  And  he  started  abruptly  for 
home. 

The  first  week  of  September  slipped  into  the  second. 
The  night  of  the  fourteenth,  John  Moore  said  at  the 
supper  table,  "  I  bought  the  old  Preble  place,  to-day. 
Traded  in  this  place  for  it,  so  we'll  have  that  free  and 
clear  out  of  the  wreck." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  faltered  Mrs.  Moore. 

"  What  I  say,"  he  snapped.  "  The  Russian  contract 
has  been  canceled.  Money  never  was  so  tight  in  thirty 
years  as  it  is  now.  Wolf  says  he  thinks  there's  a  panic 
coming,  and  so  does  the  bank.  I  can't  borrow  a  cent 
more.  I'm  through  with  my  fl\ng,  Alice,  and  I'm  go 
ing  back  to  a  farm." 

Roger  choked  a  little  on  his  tea.  His  mother  said, 
unsteadily,  "  John  dear,  if  going  back  to  the  farm 
brings  you  back  to  me,  I  shall  thank  God  for  the 
strike." 

Roger's  father  scowled  at  his  wife  for  a  moment, 
then  suddenly  something,  perhaps  the  gentleness  of  her 
voice  and  the  sweetness  of  her  eyes,  caused  him  to 
push  his  chair  back  and  going  around  to  her  side  to 
kneel  with  his  head  against  her  shoulder. 

Roger  slipped  out  of  the  room,  blowing  his  nose. 
He  went  into  the  back  yard  and  sat  scowling  at  the 
swimming  pool  until  he  heard  the  front  door  click  on 
his  father,  then  he  went  to  bed. 


26  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

The  following  day  when  Roger  went  into  the  office, 
his  father's  coat  was  hanging  on  the  accustomed  hook, 
but  his  father  was  not  there.  Vaguely  alarmed,  Roger 
started  a  search  through  the  factory.  His  alarm 
proved  unfounded,  for  he  discovered  his  father  in  the 
little  building  that  had  been  the  original  factory.  He 
looked  up  when  Roger  came  in. 

"  Look,  Rog,"  he  said.  "  I'd  like  to  take  this  old 
machine  up  to  the  farm  with  us.  We  could  store  it 
somewhere.  It's  the  first  machine  —  the  one  I  started 
business  with." 

Roger  nodded  but  could  not  speak.  Moore  looked 
around  the  room. 

"  Well,  I've  had  a  good  run  for  my  hard  work,"  he 
said,  bitterly.  "  An  old  man  at  fifty  and  a  worn  out 
farm  to  spend  my  old  age  on." 

"  You've  got  Mother  and  me.  And  why  don't  you 
start  again,  Father?  I'd  help." 

"  I'm  too  old,  Roger.  I've  lost  my  vim.  We'll 
close  the  shop,  to-day.  A  man's  coming  up  from 
Chicago  to  buy  in  the  machinery." 

A  half  hour  later,  Moore  posted  a  great  sign  on  the 
office  door.  "  This  factory  goes  out  of  business  to 
day."  Then  with  the  various  keys  of  the  buildings  in 
his  pocket,  he  went  home.  Roger  hung  about  to  see 
how  the  men  took  the  news. 

By  noon,  the  two  hundred  employees  of  the  factory 
with  many  of  their  wives  and  children  were  gathered 
in  the  factory  yard.  At  first  they  seemed  cynically 
amused  by  what  they  called  Moore's  bluff.  By  mid- 
afternoon,  however,  after  repeated  assurances  from 
Roger  that  his  father  was  going  to  be  a  farmer,  the 
crowd  became  surly.  A  strange  man  got  up  and  made 


THE  DREAMER  27 

a  speech.  He  said  that  capitalists  like  Moore  should 
be  destroyed,  that  men  such  as  he  were  a  menace  to 
America.  Roger,  standing  by  Ole's  side,  saw  suddenly 
in  his  inner  mind  his  father's  gray  head  on  his  mother's 
shoulder. 

"  You  lie,  you  dirty  anarchist !  "  he  roared,  and 
heaved  a  brick  at  the  speaker's  head. 

There  was  an  uproar.  Some  one  helped  the  speaker 
wipe  the  blood  out  of  his  eyes  and  tied  his  head  up, 
while  Ole  pinned  both  Roger's  arms  behind  him. 

"  They  say  that's  Moore's  boy  threw  that  brick," 
cried  the  speaker.  "  Come  up  here,  you  hell  cat,  and 
show  yourself  to  these  downtrodden  workmen." 

"  Let  me  go,  Ole/'  said  Roger,  with  sudden  calm. 
"  I  want  to  say  something." 

Ole  looked  into  Roger's  blue  eyes.  "  All  right,"  he 
said,  after  a  moment,  "  only  if  you  get  mad  again,  I 
can't  answer  for  this  crowd.  They're  sore." 

"  I'm  all  right,"  muttered  Roger,  and  he  pushed  his 
way  to  the  office  steps  where  the  speaker  stood. 
"  Here  I  am,"  he  cried;  "  what  about  it?  " 

"  Here  he  is,"  roared  the  stranger,  pulling  Roger 
round  to  face  the  crowd.  "If  he  tries  murder  now, 
what'll  he  do  when  he  has  a  factory  of  his  own?  " 

Roger  thrust  his  trembling  hands  into  his  trousers 
pockets.  "  Don't  you  think  it !  "  he  shouted.  "  What 
do  I  want  of  a  factory?  To  let  a  crowd  of  igno 
ramuses  like  you  ruin  me  —  just  out  of  ignorance  and 
envy?  Not  on  your  life!  My  father's  going  onto  a 
farm  and  I'm  going  with  him.  I  hope  you're  all  satis 
fied." 

"  Farm !  "  sneered  the  stranger.  "  Why,  he'll  have 
a  bunch  of  scabs  up  here  to-morrow.  I  know  Moore !  " 


28  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

What  Roger  might  have  said,  one  cannot  know,  for 
at  that  moment  a  man  drove  up  in  an  automobile  and 
shouldered  his  way  up  to  the  office  door.  He  pulled  a 
bunch  of  keys  from  his  pocket  as  he  mounted  the  steps. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  asked  Roger.  "  I'm  Mr.  Moore's 
son!" 

"  I'm  Mr.  Wrench  of  Chicago.     Trouble  serious?  " 

"  No,"  replied  the  boy.     "  Just  a  lot  of  hot  air." 

"  One  moment  please,"  said  the  strange  speaker. 
(t  There'll  be  serious  trouble  here  if  some  questions 
aren't  answered.  What  is  your  business  here?" 

"  I'm  to  see  to  the  dismantling  of  the  factory,"  an 
swered  Mr.  Wrench,  indifferently. 

A  long  breath  seemed  to  rise  from  the  listening 
crowd.  Automatically  it  broke  up  into  little  groups 
and  the  best  efforts  of  the  strike  leaders  could  not  pull 
it  together  again.  Roger  felt  that  the  excitement  was 
all  over  and  he  made  his  way  slowly  home. 

At  midnight  that  night  a  terrific  explosion  shook  the 
little  town  of  Eagle's  Wing.  Roger  had  not  finished 
pulling  on  his  clothes  when  the  fire  bells  began  to  ring. 
He  caught  his  father  rushing  out  of  the  front  door. 
Ernie  and  his  father  joined  them  and  they  followed 
other  hurrying  groups  toward  the  factory. 

It  was  all  ablaze,  as  well  as  several  of  the  workmen's 
houses,  which  with  the  main  factory  building  had  been 
demolished  by  the  explosion.  Everybody  asked  ques 
tions  at  once  and  a  hundred  pairs  of  hands  tried  to  help 
unreel  the  hose  and  bring  it  to  bear  on  the  main  blaze. 

"  Turn  on  the  water !  "  shouted  a  fireman. 

"  No !  No !  "  roared  a  voice,  and  a  man  in  his 
undershirt  rushed  up  and  tried  to  tear  the  hose  away 
from  those  that  directed  it.  It  was  Oscar. 


THE  DREAMER  29 

"  No !  Let  her  burn !  Let  her  burn !  We'll  show 
that  infernal  hound  of  a  Moore  if  he  can  take  our 
chances  away  from  us !  " 

"  Oh,  then  'twas  you !  "  cried  Moore,  and  he  leaped 
for  Oscar. 

A  dozen  men  sprang  to  pull  them  apart,  but  Roger 
was  there  first.  He  hung  onto  his  father  in  desperate 
silence,  while  others  pulled  Oscar  away.  Mr.  Wolf 
and  Ernest  followed  the  Moores  as  Roger  led  the  way 
to  a  seat  on  a  heap  of  debris. 

"There,  old  friend,  there!"  said  Wolf.  "  Don't 
take  it  so  hard!  I  know!  I  know!  If  it  was  my 
store  it  would  break  the  heart  of  me.  But  we  cannot 
break.  We  cannot." 

Roger  kept  his  hand  on  his  father's  shoulder. 
Moore  rested  his  head  on  his  hand  and  said  nothing. 

"  It's  all  right,  Daddy !  You  walloped  him  a  good 
one,"  said  Roger. 

"  His  old  snoot  was  all  over  his  face,"  added  Ernest 
in  a  cheerful  voice. 

"  Hush,  boys,  come  away  for  a  little  bit,"  said  Mr. 
Wolf.  And  he  led  the  two  back  toward  the  hose. 
But  Roger  would  not  go  far.  He  loitered  behind  lest 
some  one  should  molest  that  silent  figure  on  the  heap  of 
debris.  All  the  vicinity  was  brilliant  with  firelight. 
And  standing  waiting  thus  he  saw  a  sight  that  he  never 
was  to  forget.  It  was  his  father,  bowing  his  head  on 
a  piece  of  the  twisted,  wrecked  machinery  —  the  ma 
chinery  into  which  he  had  put  the  passionate  hopes  and 
dreams  of  his  manhood.  And  moving  nearer  lest 
some  one  else  should  see,  Roger  saw  that  his  father 
was  sobbing  as  if  indeed  his  heart  was  broken. 

That  picture  was  to   direct  the  entire  course  of 


30  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Roger's  life.  For  it  never  left  him.  And  at  first  it 
filled  his  boyish  mind  with  such  bitterness  that  he  could 
not  hear  of  labor  and  its  strivings  and  troubles  with 
out  seeing  red. 

But  as  the  years  on  the  farm  slipped  by  and  the 
atmosphere  of  competition  and  of  feverish  ambition 
gave  place  to  the  sweet  silences,  the  quiet  plodding, 
the  placid  sureness  of  farm  living,  the  bitterness  gave 
way  to  a  dream. 

Gradually  Roger  ceased  to  blame  the  factory  work 
men  who  had  destroyed  his  father,  or  to  blame  his 
father  for  the  egotism  and  selfishness  that  had  driven 
his  employees  into  reckless  stubbornness.  He  saw  be 
hind  both  the  urge  of  the  inevitable,  unquenchable 
desire  of  human  beings  for  happiness;  for  the  happi 
ness  that  comes  only  when  men  have  sufficient  leisure 
in  which  to  expand  their  minds  and  souls. 

And  as  he  grew  older  and  read  deeper  it  seemed  to 
him  that  the  solution  lay  only  indirectly  in  any  system 
of  government.  It  seemed  to  him  that  until  man  had 
learned  how  to  use  directly  and  freely  the  power 
sources  of  nature,  inequalities  of  wealth  would  always 
persist.  And  he  had  learned  in  one  bitter  lesson  that 
unhappiness  and  economic  inequality  go  hand  in  hand. 

And  so  Roger  dreamed  his  dream.  For  many  years 
it  was  such  a  mad  seeming  dream  that  he  was  ashamed 
to  speak  of  it,  even  to  Ernest.  And  yet  it  was  simple 
enough  in  its  first  outlines. 

This  was,  Roger  told  himself,  a  machine  age.  The 
more  perfect  became  man's  use  of  machinery,  the  more 
leisure  could  he  have  and  the  more  wealth.  Ultimately 
man's  efforts  must  concentrate  on  the  effort  to  find 
power  with  which  to  drive  the  world's  machinery. 


THE  DREAMER  31 

Coal  was  disappearing,  water  power  was  coming  into 
its  own.  Was  there  not,  however,  some  universal 
source  of  power  that  could  be  harnessed  and  given  to 
the  use  of  man?  Some  power  that  capital  could  not 
control  nor  labor  misuse  and  destroy  ? 

It  was  thus  that  Roger  came  to  study  the  possibili 
ties  of  Solar  Heat  utilization.  It  was  thus  that  he  be 
came  the  world's  first  and  greatest  pioneer  in  a  new 
field  of  engineering  —  a  field  so  mighty  that  it  was  to 
become  the  dean  of  all  other  fields  of  power  engi 
neering. 

He  dreamed  a  dream  of  solving  the  problem  of  labor 
versus  capital.  He  was  to  learn  through  years  of 
heart  breaking  endeavor  that  neither  capital  nor  labor 
has  use  for  a  dreamer  of  dreams  no  matter  how  prac 
tical  the  dreams  may  be,  unless  the  dreamer  is  selfish 
enough,  is  grasping  and  ruthless  enough  to  trample 
over  other  men  to  the  top. 

Roger  was  to  learn,  before  he  achieved  success,  that 
a  man's  genius  can  go  no  higher  than  his  character 
permits  it  to  go.  He  was  to  learn  that  only  out  of  a 
man's  will  to  conquer  himself  can  come  the  finest  ac 
complishment  of  his  work.  And  he  was  to  learn  that 
for  most  of  us  fate  works  with  curious  indirection. 
So  that  the  story  of  Roger's  dream  deals  not  with  a 
struggle  between  capital  and  labor,  but  with  a  man's 
struggle  with  solitudes ;  it  deals  not  so  much  with  ma 
chinery  as  with  nature ;  and  not  so  much  with  scientific 
facts  as  with  human  passions. 

Thus  for  most  of  us,  if  we  could  but  see  it  so,  life 
is  not  a  matter  of  colorless  and  naked  straight  lines 
but  is  a  rich  mosaic  made  up  of  a  thousand  seemingly 
unimportant  items. 


CHAPTER  II 

HOPES    DEFERRED 

A  LTHOUGH  John  Moore  never  became  reconciled 
**•  to  the  failure  of  his  factory,  still  he  was  not 
really  unhappy  on  the  farm.  There  is  something  too 
normal,  something  too  entirely  natural  about  a  return 
to  the  soil  after  middle  age.  to  permit  a  man  broken 
and  worn,  as  was  Roger's  father,  really  to  be  discon 
tented  when  working  in  his  own  fields. 

The  farm  never  paid  very  well.  After  the  first  year 
or  so  they  were  obliged  to  mortgage  it,  and  sometimes 
the  interest  was  hard  to  meet.  But  after  the  stormy 
factory  years,  these  anxieties  seemed  innocuous  enough 
and  Roger  and  his  mother,  anyway,  were  deeply  happy. 

Roger  made  an  old  corn  crib  over  into  a  laboratory. 
During  his  High  School  period,  with  his  faithful 
henchman,  Ernest,  he  spent  all  his  free  moments  on 
various  and  mysterious  experiments  in  the  patched-up 
little  shack.  Many  were  the  vile  smells  and  the  out 
rageous  noises  that  floated  out  over  the  farm,  but  no 
body  complained,  except  Roger's  mother,  and  she  only 
mildly.  No  startling  results  were  forthcoming  from 
these  experiments,  but  John  Moore  encouraged  the 
boys  in  their  attempts. 

"  Chemistry  was  my  weak  point,"  he  would  say. 
"  Get  all  you  can  of  it,  Rog.  Perhaps  you'll  succeed 
where  I  failed." 

32 


HOPES  DEFERRED  33 

"  All  the  chemistry  in  the  world  couldn't  have  run 
Ole  Oleson  for  you,"  Roger  would  reply. 

"  No,  but  it  would  have  made  a  real  engineer  of  me," 
his  father  would  say  thoughtfully. 

When  Roger  was  a  freshman  and  sophomore  in  col 
lege,  he  suffered  a  complete  relapse  from  his  interest  in 
experimental  work,  and  his  father  was  very  much  de 
pressed,  but  both  his  mother  and  Dean  Erskine  laughed 
at  Mr.  Moore's  fuming. 

"  Let  the  poor  child  have  his  play  time,"  said  Alice 
Moore.  "  Between  the  farm  work  and  that  nasty 
laboratory  the  boy  hasn't  known  anything  but  work 
since  we  came  out  here.  If  you'd  had  more  chance  to 
play,  John  dear,  your  nerves  would  be  in  better  shape 
now.  I'm  glad  he's  learned  to  dance,  bless  him." 

"  Give  him  his  fling,  Moore,"  said  the  Dean. 
"  He  was  getting  one  sided,  and  he's  way  ahead  of  his 
class  now,  as  a  result  of  all  his  corn  crib  grinding. 
Football  and  girls  won't  hurt  him  at  all  for  a  year  or 
so.  I'll  see  to  it  that  he  doesn't  neglect  his  work.  If 
I'm  any  judge  of  men  at  all,  that  boy  of  yours  is  going 
far.  You've  no  cause  to  worry." 

So  Roger  was  not  nagged  at  home.  Somehow  his 
father  raised  the  money  to  pay  a  hired  man  so  that 
except  in  the  long  summer  vacations  Roger  was  re 
lieved  from  farm  work.  Until  well  into  his  junior 
year,  he  merely  carried  the  required  work  in  college 
and  devoted  all  his  excess  energy  to  football  and  girls. 
He  was  notably  successful  in  both  fields.  He  was  six 
feet  tall,  lean  and  muscular  and  a  splendid  half  back. 
He  was  eager  and  chivalrous  and  had  a  charming 
smile  and  was  a  famous  schemer  of  things  to  do,  and 
places  to  go.  The  University  was  co-educational  and 


34  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Roger  had  no  rival  with  the  girls  except  perhaps 
Ernest.  Ernest  was  whimsical  and  sweet  and  very 
musical,  and  he  took  the  girls  seriously,  which  Roger 
refused  to  do. 

But  all  the  playing  came  to  an  end  in  Roger's  junior 
winter.  A  venomous  epidemic  of  La  Grippe  swept 
over  the  world  that  year  and  Roger's  mother  suc 
cumbed  to  it.  A  month  after  her  death,  John  Moore 
gave  in  to  pneumonia  and  early  in  February  Roger 
found  himself  alone  in  the  world. 

Roger  escaped  with  only  a  mild  attack  of  the  disease, 
but  the  shock  of  his  loss  left  him  for  a  time,  it  seemed, 
spiritually  and  physically  bankrupt.  There  was  noth 
ing  left.  The  worn  out  farm  was  eaten  up  by  mort 
gages.  The  stock  and  implements  would  only  just 
pay  food  bills,  the  doctor,  the  funeral  expenses. 

One  cold  gray  afternoon  Roger  closed  the  gate  for 
the  last  time  and,  suitcase  in  hand,  started  down  the 
road  to  town.  He  had  not  covered  half  the  distance 
when  he  met  Ernest. 

"  Hey,  Rog,  old  man,  I  was  just  coming  up.  Where 
are  you  going?  " 

"To  Mrs.  Winkler's.  Got  my  room  there  for  tak 
ing  care  of  the  furnace,  walks,  and  any  old  thing." 

"  Forget  it !  "  exclaimed  Ernest.  "  You're  coming 
home* with  me  until  you  get  braced  up.  Mother  and 
Dad  said  so." 

"  That'll  make  it  harder  when  I  do  get  back.  Be 
sides,  old  lady  Winkler  might  not  hold  the  place  for 
me/'  Roger  spoke  firmly.  Nevertheless  he  allowed 
Ernest  to  help  him  with  the  suitcase  and  made  no  ob 
jection  when  his  chum  turned  off  Main  Street  toward 
the  Wolf  home. 


HOPES  DEFERRED  35 

Mrs.  Wolf  kissed  him  and  put  him  to  bed,  while 
Elsa  brought  a  hot  water  bottle  and  a  cup  of  hot  milk. 
He  hung  about  the  house  for  several  days,  dreading 
the  return  to  college  and  Mrs.  Winkler.  But  Mrs. 
Wolf  knew  Roger  almost  as  well  as  his  own  mother 
had  known  him.  She  left  him  alone  until  one  snowy 
afternoon,  after  a  prolonged  absence  in  his  room,  he 
came  into  the  kitchen  with  traces  of  tears  about  the 
eyes.  Mother  Wolf  was  paring  apples  for  mince 
meat.  Papa  Wolf  would  eat  no  food  not  prepared 
by  hers  or  Elsa's  hands. 

"  Help  me  with  these  nut  meats,  Roger,  there's  a 
good  boy,"  she  said. 

Roger  sat  down  by  the  table  with  a  long  sigh  and 
began  to  pick  at  the  hickory  nuts. 

"  Elsa's  gone  to  Choral  Union  practice,"  volunteered 
Mother  Wolf.  "  Ernie  is  doing  some  laboratory  work 
he  said  he  was  behind  in.  You  must  be  getting  some 
what  behind,  too,  Roger." 

"  I  guess  so,"  agreed  Roger,  indifferently.. 

"  Papa  met  Dean  Erskine  in  the  Post  Office  yester 
day.  The  Dean  said  you  were  the  most  promising 
man  in  your  class." 

"  What  good  does  that  do,"  asked  Roger,  "  when 
they're  gone  and  can't  know  ?  " 

"  How  do  you  know  they  can't  know  ?  "  asked  the 
little  woman  sharply.  "  Older  and  wiser  people  than 
you  believe  otherwise.  One  thing  is  sure,  that  the 
only  real  thing  you  can  do  for  your  parents  now  is  to 
carry  on  what  they  began.  Life  is  short  and  there's 
no  time  to  waste,  Roger  dear,  no  time  to  waste." 

"  Are  you  getting  tired  of  me  here? "  asked  Roger 
quickly. 


36  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Mother  Wolf's  pretty  blue  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
"  Do  you  have  to  be  unkind,  Roger?  "  she  asked. 

"  Forgive  me !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  know  you'd  let 
me  live  here  if  you  thought  it  would  be  good  for  me." 

There  was  silence.  The  coal  range  glowed  and  the 
snow  without  sifted  endlessly  past  the  window.  Sud 
denly  Roger  rose  and  putting  on  his  overcoat  and  cap 
went  out  into  the  storm. 

Dean  Erskine  was  in  the  little  office  off  the  junior 
laboratory.  Roger  had  not  seen  him  since  the  day  of 
his  father's  funeral,  but  he  kept  his  voice  and  manner 
casual. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Dean  Erskine.  How  many  hours 
am  I  behind  in  lab  work  ?  " 

The  Dean  too  was  off  hand.  "  I've  lost  count, 
Roger." 

"  It's  sort  of  sniveling  baby  work,  anyhow,"  said 
Roger.  "  I  did  it  all  once;  up  in  the  corn  crib." 

"  I  know  that,"  said  Erskine.  "  That's  why  I've  let 
you  neglect  it  so  outrageously.  I  had  hopes  too  that 
you'd  wake  up  and  ask  to  do  other  things.  But  it 
seemed  that  you  preferred  experimenting  with  Welsh 
rarebits  at  Hepburn  Hall  and  marshmallow  sundaes  at 
Allen's." 

Roger  had  the  grace  to  blush.  He  grinned  sheep 
ishly,  then  said  soberly :  "  I'm  through  with  all  that 
now." 

"  Oh,  it  has  its  place  in  a  normal  man's  life!  Only 
you  seem  to  have  crowded  several  years  of  it  into  two. 
If  you're  not  in  training  I  don't  mind  if  you  smoke. 
Only  close  that  door  into  the  classroom." 

The  Dean  pulled  out  an  outrageous  old  pipe.  Roger 
closed  the  door,  then  lighted  a  cigarette.  The  two 


HOPES  DEFERRED  37 

smoked  in  the  silence  of  old  friendship  for  a  while, 
then  Roger  said, 

"  Dean,  what  do  you  know  about  solar  heat?  " 

The  Dean  looked  at  him  suspiciously.  "  The  usual 
things.  Why?" 

"  I'm  not  trying  to  trip  you,"  exclaimed  Roger. 
"  I've  read  all  I  can  find  on  it,  and  that's  darned  little. 
You  know  those  arrangements  of  mirrors  in  an  um 
brella-like  frame,  focussing  the  sun's  rays  on  a  point 
at  the  center,  where  the  steam  boiler  is  located?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Dean. 

"  Well,  I  don't  believe  the  fellows  that  are  working 
along  that  idea  are  right.  The  mechanism  is  hope 
lessly  complicated,  unwieldy  and  expensive." 

Erskine  nodded,  his  gaze  on  Roger's  dreaming  eyes. 

"  Ever  since  I  was  a  kid,"  said  the  boy,  slowly,  "  in 
fact  ever  since  the  factory  went  to  pieces,  I've  had  a 
pipe  dream.  It's  sort  of  nutty,  you  know,  and  I  sup 
pose  you'll  think  it's  childish,  but - 

"  Let's  have  it.  I  accept  your  apologies,"  said  the 
Dean,  smiling. 

And  so  Roger  was  launched  for  the  first  time  on  the 
telling  of  his  dream.  He  was  a  little  halting  and  in 
coherent  at  times,  but  his  -old  friend  listened  attentively. 
When  Roger  had  finished,  he  said, 

"  It's  a  good  dream,  Roger,  and  sound  in  its  general 
premises.  Have  you  ever  got  down  to  brass  tacks 
with  it  and  tried  to  design  a  solar  engine?  " 

"  No,  I've  only  a  lot  of  notes  and  sketches.  It  al 
ways  seemed  to  cost  so-  much  that  I  never  had  courage 
to  go  any  farther." 

Erskine  refilled  his  pipe.  "  I  have  a  dream  too. 
Only  mine  is  in  pretty  good  working  shape.  My 


38  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

dream  has  been  to  turn  out  of  this  school  men  who 
were  practical  engineers  but  who  also  had  ideas.  Men 
who  were  never  satisfied  with  a  bridge,  a  motor,  a  gas 
engine  after  they  had  finished  it,  but  would  be  forever 
trying  to  improve  it.  Such  men,  of  course,  are  rare, 
but  in  the  fifteen  years  I've  been  here,  I've  sent  out 
five  or  six  lads  who  have  given  American  engineering 
a  real  lift.  I  haven't  come  across  a  fellow  before 
though  who  had  any  concrete  vision  of  the  world's 
labor  problems  in  relation  to  the  inventing  game." 

He  fell  to  brooding  and  Roger  waited  patiently. 
Erskine  finally  looked  up.  "  It's  a  big  dream,  boy. 
Too  big  for  you  or  any  other  man  to  put  over  in  a 
single  generation.  But  we'll  do  what  we  can  toward 
giving  it  a  start.  You  cut  out  junior  laboratory  and 
get  to  work  on  your  designs.  When  you  finally  get 
one  that  seems  workable,  we'll  have  the  shops  make  a 
model."  He  paused,  then  rose  and  Roger  rose  too 
while  the  Dean  put  a  hand  on  his  broad  young  shoul 
der.  "  You've  launched  on  the  finest,  most  thankless, 
most  compelling,  most  discouraging,  most  heart  thrill 
ing  game  in  the  world,  Roger.  You'll  probably  be 
poverty  stricken  all  your  life,  but  Lord!  Lord!  what 
riches  of  the  mind  will  be  yours !  " 

Roger  flushed  and  lifted  his  head  in  a  gesture  that 
was  infinitely  young. 

"  I'm  used  to  poverty,  sir." 

"  I  know  you  are  and  so  am  I.  Good  night, 
Roger!" 

"  Good  night,  Dean!  Thank  you!  "  and  Roger,  in 
spite  of  his  grief,  returned  to  the  Wolfs'  with  his  face 
set  triumphantly  toward  the  future. 


HOPES  DEFERRED  39 

The  next  morning  he  deposited  his  suitcase  in  old 
lady  Winkler's  most  meager  and  coldest  bedroom  and 
after  he  had  stoked  the  furnace  and  shoveled  the  walks 
he  bolted  for  the  college  drafting  room. 

It  was  not  until  the  fall  of  his  senior  year  that  Roger 
completed  a  design  of  a  solar  engine  which  Dean 
Erskine  was  willing  to  turn  over  to  the  University 
shops,  that  a  model  might  be  made.  Roger  had  taken 
Ernest  into  -his  confidence  and  that  faithful  friend 
undertook  to  make  all  drawings  for  him.  Ernest  had 
no  originality  of  mind,  but  he  was  an  excellent  work 
man  and  a  first  class  mathematician  and  laboratory 
man.  Early  in  January,  the  model  was  completed, 
and  on  a  cold  Saturday  afternoon,  the  test  was  made. 
Roger  and  Ernest  came  home  to  the  Wolfs'  for  sup 
per  deeply  discouraged. 

"  But  why  wouldn't  it  work?"  asked  Elsa,  as  the 
boys  wiped  the  supper  dishes  for  her. 

"If  I  knew  that,  I  wouldn't  be  blue,  would  I?" 
grunted  Roger. 

"  I  wish  I  understood  the  stuff  you  talk,"  Elsa  went 
on.  "  I  don't  see  how  on  a  cold  day  like  this  you'd 
expect  to  run  an  engine  with  heat  from  the  sun." 

"  We  didn't  try  to,"  said  Ernest. 

"  Didn't  try  to !  "  echoed  Elsa.  Then  she  banged 
the  tea  kettle  angrily  back  on  the  stove.  "  I  do  think 
you  boys  are  disgusting!  Here  I'm  so  interested  in 
your  work  and  you  treat  me  as  if  I  were  a  baby !  And 
I'd  like  to  know  who  does  more  for  you  two  great 
hulks  than  I  do.  You  simply  disgust  — " 

"  Hold  on,  Elsa,"  roared  Roger.  "  For  the  love  of 
Mike!  I'll  confide  the  inmost  secrets  of  my  being  to 


40  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

you  if  you'll  stop  jawing.  Now  listen!  You  can  see 
that  we  can't  get  as  high  temperatures  out  of  the  sun's 
rays  as  we  can  out  of  burning  coal  or  gasolene?  " 

Elsa,  much  mollified,  leaned  against  the  sink  and  fas 
tened  her  violet  eyes  on  Roger's  face. 

"  I  understand  that,"  she  said. 

"  Wonderful !  "  murmured  Ernest. 

Elsa  made  a  face  at  her  brother  and  Roger  went  on 
with  a  grin.  "  So  I'm  trying  first  of  all  to  develop  a 
practical,  efficient  engine  that  will  run  with  the  tem 
peratures  I'm  able  to  get  from  Sun  Heat." 

"And  won't  the  model  work  at  all?  Not  a  bit?  " 
asked  Elsa. 

"  She  just  sits  and  looks  at  me  without  moving  a 
muscle,"  replied  Roger. 

"  Can't  the  Dean  tell  you  what's  the  matter?  "  Elsa 
ventured. 

"  The  Dean !  "  snorted  Ernest.  "  Isn't  that  just  like 
a  girl  ?  Why,  Roger  knows  more  about  low  pressure 
engines  in  a  minute  than  the  Dean'll  know  in  his  whole 
life.  Come  on,  Rog,  if  you've  finished  your  kinder 
garten.  Let's  go  up  to  see  Florence  King  and  her 
bunch  at  the  Beta  house.  It  will  rest  our  brains." 

"  Not  for  me,"  replied  Roger.  "  I've  done  enough 
girling  to  last  me  a  spell.  I'll  stay  here  and  educate 
Elsa  till  she  goes  to  choir  practice,  then  I'm  going  home 
and  bone  on  that  design." 

"  Sorry  for  you,"  sniffed  Ernest,  and  was  off. 

Roger  deposited  Elsa  at  the  church  door,  then  re 
turned  to  Mrs.  Winkler's.  The  light  burned  in  his 
cold  little  room  nearly  all  night.  But  when  he  went  to 
bed,  sketches  for  the  complete  redesigning  of  the  en 
gine  lay  on  his  table.  And  it  was  this  changed  design 


HOPES  DEFERRED  41 

;which  he  kept  through  all  the  vicissitudes  of  struggling 
to  market  his  dream. 

During  his  senior  year,  Roger,  with  Ernest  and 
other  promising  men  of  the  graduating  class,  had  sev 
eral  jobs  offered  him  by  different  manufacturing  and 
engineering  concerns.  In  the  earlier  days  of  the  Uni 
versity,  a  young  graduate  of  the  School  of  Engineering 
had  been  looked  on  with  contempt  by  the  business  men 
of  the  state.  He  was  a  "  book  "  engineer  to  them,  just 
as  a  graduate  of  the  School  of  Agriculture  was  a 
"  book  "  farmer  to  the  farmers  of  the  state. 

But,  as  the  years  had  gone  on,  it  was  observed  that 
the  minor  jobs,  obtained  with  difficulty  by  the  men 
whom  Dean  Erskine  had  trained  and  recommended, 
nearly  always  became  jobs  of  fundamental  importance. 
The  observation  bore  fruit.  Little  by  little  "  Dean 
Erskine  men  "  were  scattered  across  the  continent  un 
til  even  as  early  as  Roger's  graduating  year,  it  was  the 
custom  of  engineering  concerns  and  manufacturers  to 
watch  the  Dean's  laboratories  closely  and  to  bespeak 
the  services  long  before  commencement  of  every  prom 
ising  lad  in  the  class. 

By  the  Dean's  advice,  however,  Roger  did  not  accept 
any  of  these  positions.  He  decided  to  take  an  in- 
structorship  in  the  University  and  keep  on  with  his 
experiments  in  solar  engineering.  Both  he  and  Ers 
kine  felt  that  in  a  couple  of  years,  at  most,  Roger  would 
have  something  practical  to  offer  the  world.  Ernest 
also  took  an  instructorship,  working  toward  his  doc 
tor's  degree.  His  father  was  delighted.  He  was  im 
mensely  proud  of  Ernest's  work  in  college,  and  a  full 
professorship  for  Ernest  would  have  meant  as  much  to 
Papa  Wolf  as  the  national  presidency  for  his  boy. 


42  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

The  two  years  flew  rapidly.  The  summer  that  he 
was  twenty-five,  Roger,  armed  with  letters  of  introduc 
tion  from  the  Dean,  and  a  roll  of  drawings,  went  to 
Chicago.  He  was  about  to  market  his  dream  and  he 
proposed  to  give  the  two  summer  months  to  the  job. 
After  that  —  well,  the  possibilities  staggered  even 
Roger's  imagination,  which  was  an  active  one. 

Haskell  and  Company,  makers  of  Gas-Engines! 
The  sign  was  as  inconspicuous  as  the  firm  was  famous 
in  the  middle  West.  Roger,  after  two  days  of  wait- 
ling,  was  staring  at  the  faded  gilt  letters  until  the  mo 
ment  of  his  interview  with  Mr.  Haskell  arrived.  He 
was  a  little  uncertain  about  the  knees,  but  very  san 
guine  for  all  that.  Mr.  Haskell,  a  small  man  with  a 
grizzled  beard,  sat  behind  a  desk  in  a  room  that  was 
small  and  dingy.  The  desk  seemed  to  Roger  an  un 
necessarily  long  way  from  the  door,  as  he  advanced 
under  Mr.  Haskell's  eyes. 

"  Well,  Sir,  so  you're  one  of  Erskine's  men.  Ought 
to  be  good.  Solar  engine,  though,  doesn't  sound 
cheerful.  What's  the  idea?  " 

Roger  unrolled  his  drawings  and  began  his  explana 
tions.  Haskell  listened  with  keen  interest,  asking  ques 
tions  now  and  again.  When  Roger,  flushed  of  cheek, 
had  finished,  Haskell  lighted  his  cigar,  which  had  gone 
out. 

"  Very  clever !  Very  clever !  A  nice  little  experi 
ment.  What  do  you  want  to  do  with  it?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  manufacture  and  sell  these  solar 
heat  plants,"  replied  Roger  boldly. 

"  I  see.  But  are  you  sure  such  a  plant  is  practi 
cable?" 

"Absolutely!" 


HOPES  DEFERRED  43 

"  Where  have  you  had  one  working?  " 

"  At  the  University." 

"  You  mean  in  the  laboratory." 

Roger  nodded.  Haskell  cleared  his  throat  and 
looked  over  Roger's  black  head  for  a  minute,  then  he 
said: 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I  am  a  business  man,  not  a  philan 
thropist.  When  you  can  come  to  me  and  say,  '  I've  got 
a  plant  in  Texas  and  one  in  Mississippi  and  one  in 
Egypt  and  they've  worked  for,  say  two  years,  and  the 
folks  want  more/  why,  then  you'll  interest  me.  But  I 
don't  see  putting  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  into  a 
laboratory  experiment,  however  clever." 

Roger's  clear  blue  eyes,  still  unsophisticated  despite 
his  twenty-five  years,  did  not  flinch.  There  was  a  per 
ceptible  pause,  however,  before  he  said : 

"  But,  Mr.  Haskell,  how  am  I  going  to  get  a  dozen 
plants  into  use  unless  some  one  manufactures  and  in 
stalls  them  for  me?  " 

"  Some  one  will  have  to  do  just  that.  But  you'll 
have  to  pay  for  it." 

"  But  I  thought  great  concerns  like  yours,"  persisted 
Roger,  "  were  constantly  looking  for  new  develop 
ments." 

"  We  are.  But  frankly,  Mr.  Moore,  your  whole 
idea  is  too  visionary.  Some  day,  undoubtedly,  we 
shall  have  solar  engineering.  But  that  day  is  several 
generations  away.  We  have  coal  and  all  its  by-prod 
ucts  and  water  power  is  just  beginning  to  come  into 
its  own." 

"  Coal  would  have  to  retail  at  a  dollar  a  ton  to  com 
pete  with  my  solar  device  in  a  hot  climate,"  interrupted 
Roger. 


44  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Very  interesting  if  true!  But  you've  erected  no 
plant  in  a  hot  climate.  I'll  tell  you  what  I  will  do 
though,  Mr.  Moore.  I  could  very  well  use  your  un 
usual  knowledge  of  heat  transmission  in  my  concern. 
I'll  give  you  three  thousand  a  year  to  begin  with." 

Roger  got  slowly  to  his  feet,  rolling  up  his  drawings. 
"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Haskell.  But  I  think  I'll  stick  to 
my  solar  engine." 

Haskell  rose  too.  "  An  inventor's  life  is  hell,  my 
boy.  Better  come  in  out  of  the  rain." 

"  But  why  should  it  be  hell  ?  "  asked  Roger.  "  The 
inventor  is  the  very  backbone  of  the  industrial  life  of 
the  world." 

"  I  know  it.  But  for  every  good  invention  offered 
there  are  a  thousand  poor  ones.  We  who  pay  the 
piper  have  to  be  careful." 

"  I'm  much  obliged  to  you  for  giving  me  so  much 
time,"  said  Roger,  picking  up  his  hat. 

"  Not  at  all.  And  remember  that  my  offer  to  you 
is  a  permanent  one." 

Roger  grinned,  and  left  the  office. 

Outside  the  building  he  drew  a  long  breath,  stared 
abstractedly  at  the  passing  crowd,  then  drew  out  his 
second  letter  of  introduction.  James  Howe  and  Sons 
Company,  Marine  Engines.  Roger  decided  to  walk  to 
his  second  meeting.  It  would  give  him  time  to  collect 
his  thoughts.  The  walk  was  a  long  one  and  by  the 
time  he  had  covered  the  distance  his  hopes  had  soared 
again. 

James  Howe  and  Sons  Company  did  not  seem  over 
joyed  by  the  letter  of  introduction  and  for  some  time 
it  seemed  as  if  Roger  could  not  pass  the  young  woman 
who  guarded  the  main  office  door.  He  was  finally 


HOPES  DEFERRED  45 

admitted,  however,  to  the  office  of  Mr.  Hearn,  the 
general  manager.  Hearn  was  a  man  of  forty,  full 
faced  and  ruddy. 

"  I  get  the  idea !  I  get  the  idea !  "  he  said  impa 
tiently  when  Roger  was  about  half  way  through  his 
explanations. 

Roger  flushed.  "  You  can't  possibly,  Mr.  Hearn. 
I  haven't  reached  the  main  idea  yet." 

"  I've  got  enough  to  convince  me  that  you're  hope 
lessly  impractical.  Give  it  up,  young  man!  Give  it 
up  and  get  into  something  that'll  pay  the  bill  at  the 
corner  grocery.  Solar  power  is  about  as  practical  as 
wave  power.  Fit  merely  for  the  dreams  of  poets. 
Sorry  not  to  be  able  to  give  you  more  time.  Good 
day!  Miss  Morris,  call  in  the  foundry  boss." 

Roger  found  himself  in  the  street  before  he  had 
finished  rolling  up  his  drawings.  :t  Well,  I'll  be 
hanged!"  he  muttered.  Then  he  suddenly  smiled. 
"  I  think  I  came  down  here  with  an  idea  that  we'd  be 
turning  out  machines  in  a  couple  of  months!  Gee,  if 
I'm  landed  by  Christmas,  I'll  be  lucky."  He  pulled 
out  the  third  letter  of  introduction,  and  his  head  lifted 
defiantly,  started  off  to  present  it. 

The  Dean  had  been  generous  with  his  letters,  but 
by  the  end  of  the  first  week  in  Chicago,  Roger  had 
presented  them  all.  Curiously  enough,  in  all  this  week 
of  meeting  with  manufacturers  Roger  told  but  one  of 
them  his  ultimate  dream.  John  McGinnis,  maker  of 
kerosene  engines,  was  elderly  and  Irish  and  immensely 
interested  in  Roger  and  his  idea. 

He  slapped  Roger  on  the  back.  "  It's  a  grand  idea, 
me  boy!  If  I  wasn't  just  about  to  retire,  hanged  if 
I  wouldn't  help  you  to  build  one  plant.  How  come 


46  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

you  ever  to  take  up  solar  heat  though,  with  the  world 
all  howling  for  a  real  kerosene  engine?  " 

They  were  sitting  in  McGinnis'  pleasant  office,  the 
windows  of  which  overlooked  Lake  Michigan.  The 
old  man  had  cocked  his  feet  up  on  his  mahogany  desk 
and  had  about  him  an  air  of  leisurely  interest.  He 
gave  Roger  the  mate  to  the  long  brown  cigar  he  him 
self  was  smoking  and  after  a  few  minutes  Roger  said, 
hesitatingly : 

"  When  I  was  a  kid  of  fourteen,  labor  difficulties 
ruined  my  father.  He  owned  a  little  plow  factory, 
employing  a  couple  of  hundred  men.  I  got  a  good 
deal  of  the  men's  side  for  I  worked  as  a  forge  boy 
that  summer,  but  after  the  crash,  for  a  long  time,  I  was 
all  for  father's  side  of  the  matter.  Gradually  though, 
I  began  to  think  differently. 

"  I  began  to  be  sorry  for  the  men  as  well  as  for  my 
father.  They  were  hardworking,  ambitious  chaps 
who  wanted  to  get  ahead,  just  as  my  father  did.  They 
took  the  only  way  they  saw  for  getting  ahead.  They 
didn't  believe  that  just  because  father  was  the  brain 
of  the  concern,  he  should  be  well-to-do  and  they  poor. 

"  I  couldn't  find  any  system  of  government  that  I 
was  convinced  would  remove  the  economic  inequalities 
that  were  the  root  of  the  trouble.  So  I  began  to  think 
about  sources  of  wealth.  You  can  see  how  my  mind 
fastened  first  on  machinery,  then  on  power,  then  on 
quantity  and  accessibility  of  power;  then  solar  heat." 

McGinnis  nodded,  then  smiled.  "  You're  a  damn 
queer  inventor.  What  do  you  expect  to  get  out  of 
it?" 

"  All  any  man  can  get  on  the  physical  side  out  of 
anything  is  a  living,"  replied  Roger.  "  What  I  am 


HOPES  DEFERRED  47 

getting  and  expect  to  have  more  of,  is  some  great  ad 
ventures." 

McGinnis  smoked  for  a  while  and  said,  "  If  I  were 
twenty-five  instead  of  seventy,  I'd  look  at  it  as  you 
do.  Being  seventy  I  have  to  say  to  you,  me  boy, 
that  though  some  day  you  may  work  out  a  practical 
plant  for  hot  countries,  you'll  never  solve  the  labor 
problem.  As  long  as  human  nature  exists  we'll  have 
social  inequalities.  But,  after  all,  as  long  as  you  con 
tribute  something  real  to  the  world  in  the  way  of 
a  power  idea,  devil  a  bit  does  it  matter  what  motive 
put  you  at  the  job." 

Roger  smoked  in  silence. 

"Had  any  encouragement  in  Chicago?"  asked  the 
older  man. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  replied  Roger,  cheerfully.  "  But  the 
trip  has  done  me  good.  I've  learned  that  I  can't  sell 
an  idea.  I've  got  to  sell  a  working  plant." 

"  Right  you  are !  And  with  the  patent  situation 
fully  covered.  Those  drawings  of  yours  are  full  of 
interesting  suggestions  for  makers  of  any  kind  of 
engines.  Philanthropic  of  you  to  show  them  about 
Chicago." 

"  By  Jove !  "  exclaimed  Roger,  with  a  startled  air. 
"  I  guess  I'd  better  beat  it  back  to  Eagle's  Wing  until 
I  get  out  of  swaddling  clothes.  I  supposed  the  firm 
that  would  take  this  up  would  take  care  of  the  patents. 
I  don't  know  anything  about  patents  myself." 

"  Better  learn,"  said  McGinnis.  "  Many  of  your 
ideas  are  clever  and  need  protection." 

Roger  laughed  ruefully.  "  I  thought,"  he  confessed, 
"  that  I'd  have  the  thing  marketed  in  a  couple  of 
months." 


48  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Listen/'  said  the  old  man.  "  On  the  average  the 
man  who  has  an  invention  that  is  of  fundamental  sig 
nificance  gives  his  life  to  perfecting  and  marketing  it, 
then  dies  hungry.  Do  you  get  me?  " 

"But  there  are  exceptions,  aren't  there?"  insisted 
Roger. 

"  Yes,  but  no  such  pipe  dream  as  you  have  there," 
pointing  to  the  drawings,  "  could  be  an  exception," 

"  Would  you  advise  me  to  give  it  up  ?  "  Roger  asked 
curiously. 

"  I  would  not.  That's  your  job.  Civilization  owes 
its  existence  to  chaps  like  you." 

Roger,  face  flushed,  black  hair  rumpled,  blue  eyes 
glowing,  rose  to  go. 

"  I  can't  exactly  thank  you,"  he  mumbled.  "  Only," 
his  voice  strengthening,  "  if  I  hadn't  met  you,  I'd  have 
gone  back  home  discouraged  and  almost  as  ignorant  as 
I  left.  As  it  is,  I  feel  in  bully  fighting  trim." 

Old  John  McGinnis  got  to  his  feet.  "  God  bless 
you,  my  lad.  When  I'm  twanging  a  harp,  up  above, 
I'll  be  having  an  interested  eye  on  you." 

Roger  started  back  to  Eagle's  Wing  that  evening. 
Ernest  and  Dean  Erskine  were  both  deeply  interested 
in  Roger's  report,  which  he  gave  in  the  Dean's  library 
the  night  he  reached  home. 

"  Pshaw !  I  should  have  told  you  a  lot  of  things 
that  would  have  helped  you,"  exclaimed  the  Dean 
when  Roger  had  finished.  "  But  one  forgets  up  here 
in  the  classroom  how  the  war  rages  out  in  the  industrial 
world." 

"  Will  patents  cost  a  lot?  "  inquired  Ernest.  "  You 
know  I  don't  use  all  my  salary.  Draw  at  will,  old 
man," 


HOPES  DEFERRED  49 

"  Thanks,  old  top,"  replied  Roger.  "  Since  I  cut 
out  girls  and  golf,  I've  been  saving  a  bit  myself." 

"  The  patents  won't  cost  a  great  deal,  if  you  do  the 
work  yourself,  Roger,"  said  the  Dean.  "  But  it's  go 
ing  to  take  time  to  learn  the  patent  game." 

"  Well,"  said  Roger,  with  a  sigh,  "  if  I've  got  to 
become  a  patent  attorney  in  order  to  patent  my  ideas,  I 
suppose  I  can.  But  gee,  I  am  glad  I  don't  want  to 
get  married.  You  were  wise  in  not  letting  me  give  up 
that  instructorship,  Dean,  as  I  wanted  to." 

Dean  Erskine  smiled  ruefully.  "  Seems  to  have 
been  about  the  only  sane  advice  I've  given  you." 

"Don't  you  think  it,  sir!"  exclaimed  Roger.  "If 
I  ever  do  get  away  with  this,  yours  will  be  the  credit." 

"  And  Ernest's,"  added  the  Dean. 

"  You  bet,  Ernest !  And  now,  I'm  going  out  to  the 
University  library  and  read  up  on  patents,"  said  Roger, 
with  the  familiar  squaring  of  the  shoulders. 

He  had  need  to  square  his  shoulders :  a  greater  need 
than  either  he  or  his  two  devoted  friends  could  dream. 
For  as  the  months  slipped  into  years,  it  seemed  more 
and  more  obvious  that  either  Roger's  ideas  were  utterly 
impractical  or  else  that  he  was  actually  several  genera 
tions  ahead  of  his  time.  In  his  brilliant,  yet  thorough 
going  way,  Roger  studied  patent  law  and  registered 
two  years  after  his  trip  to  Chicago  as  a  patent  attorney 
in  Washington.  He  worked  constantly  on  the  develop 
ment  of  his  plant,  improving  here,  discarding  there, 
until  he  had  reached  the  point,  he  felt,  where  he  could 
do  no  more  until  he  had  funds  for  a  practical  plant, 
in  a  hot  climate. 

He  and  the  Dean  and  Ernest  estimated  that  not  less 
than  fifty  thousand  dollars  would  be  essential  for  such 


50  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

an  initial  plant.  The  sum  might  have  been  fifty  mil 
lion  for  all  its  accessibility  to  Roger.  Most  of  the 
wealthy  men  whom  Roger  was  able  to  reach  admitted 
the  cleverness  and  the  interest  of  his  ideas.  None  of 
them  could  be  persuaded  that  the  idea  would  be  a  good 
investment.  Once  in  desperation  Roger  went  to  Chi 
cago  to  a  firm  whose  letter  heads  read  "  Bankers, 
Stocks  and  Bonds,  Promoters,  Investments."  Roger 
was  turned  over  to  a  young  man  who  wore  a  garnet 
ring  and  who  was  at  the  head  of  the  Engineering  In 
vestments  Department.  The  two  had  several  long  ses 
sions.  Then  the  man  of  the  garnet  ring  proposed  that 
a  company  be  organized  for  half  a  million  dollars  and 
that  his  company  undertake  to  sell  the  stock.  Roger 
was  much  encouraged. 

"  That's  fine,"  he  said.  "  How  long  would  it  take 
to  raise  fifty  thousand  dollars?  " 

"  Not  long,"  replied  the  young  promoter,  whose 
name  was  Eaton.  "Of  course,  you  understand  that 
the  first  money  will  have  to  go  for  office  expenses  and 
salaries." 

"  Whose  salaries  ?  "  asked  Roger.  "  I  don't  want 
any  and  I  need  only  a  few  day  laborers." 

"  You  don't  get  me."  Eaton  was  patient.  "  I'm 
speaking  of  the  Solar  Company's  Chicago  office." 

"  Shucks !  We  don't  want  an  office  in  Chicago. 
What  we  want  is  a  plant  in  Arizona." 

"If  you  think  we  can  sell  stock  in  a  nutty  scheme 
like  this  without  plenty  of  mahogany  furniture  and 
high  sounding  titles  on  glass  doors,  you're  even  greener 
than  I  thought  you  were,"  said  Eaton. 

Roger  looked  at  him  thoughtfully.     "  Oh,  I  see !  " 


HOPES  DEFERRED  51 

he  said  after  a  moment.  "  When  would  you  want  to 
begin  on  this  work  ?  " 

"  As  soon  as  you  can  raise  a  little  preliminary  ex 
pense  money  for  us,  say  $1500." 

"  Oh/'  said  Roger  again.  "  Of  course,  you  realize 
that  the  only  thing  that  will  give  that  stock  any  value 
is  building  plants  with  the  money  we  get  from  selling 
it." 

"  Why,  certainly !  But  we  must  make  a  right  start. 
An  office  in  your  bedroom  may  go  in  Eagle's  Wing 
but  not  in  Chicago." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Roger  for  a  third  and  last  time.  And 
the  conference  adjourned  sine  die. 

Something  about  this  interview  depressed  Roger 
profoundly. 

He  went  home,  locked  up  his  drawings  and  threw  an 
old  canvas  over  the  model  of  the  solar  engine  that  had 
stood  for  so  many  years  in  a  corner  of  the  graduate 
laboratory.  It  was  six  months  before  he  could  induce 
himself  to  touch  his  work  again.  And  it  dawned  on 
him  that  his  twenties  were  slipping  by  and  that  he  was 
becoming  unsociable  and  grave.  But  there  seemed  no 
remedy  for  the  matter.  His  dream  had  become  the 
most  vital  part  of  his  life,  and  would  not  let  him  lead  a 
normal  existence.  Such  is  the  price  that  a  dreamer 
pays  for  his  vision. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    NEW    DAY 

ROGER,  climbing  the  steps  to  the  Science  Building 
on  the  day  that  he  was  thirty  years  old,  wondered 
if  his  working  life  was  to  end  as  it  had  begun  within 
its  ugly  walls. 

The  building  stood  at  the  western  edge  of  the  cam 
pus.  It  was  a  Gothic,  Jacobean,  Victorian  composite, 
four  stories  high,  built  of  yellow  standstone,  marble 
and  brick.  It  boasted  a  round  dome,  rising  from  a 
Gothic  main  roof  and  a  little  pagoda-like  tower  on 
each  of  the  mansard  roofs  that  crowned  the  two  wings. 
There  had  been  a  time  when  to  Roger  the  Science 
Building  had  been  beautiful.  But  he  saw  its  ugliness 
now  and  laughed  about  it  with  Ernest. 

On  this  December  afternoon,  Roger  stayed  late  in 
the  laboratory  with  twenty  seniors  who  for  some  weeks 
had  been  carrying  on  strength  tests  of  varying  mixtures 
of  concrete.  The  sun  was  low  in  the  west  and  the 
corners  of  the  huge  old  room  were  dark.  But  a  red 
glow  from  the  west  window  filled  its  center,  turning 
the  concrete  bricquettes  piled  on  the  table  in  the  middle 
of  the  room  to  gold. 

Roger  stood  by  the  table,  examining  the  students' 
reports  on  the  fractured  bricquettes.  His  black  hair, 
with  the  sunset  full  upon  it,  was  like  molten  bronze. 
Roger's  face  had  changed  in  the  years  since  his  under- 

52 


THE  NEW  DAY  53 

graduate  days.  His  figure  was  the  same,  six  feet  of 
lean  muscle ;  his  eyes  were  as  blue  and  his  face  as  thin 
and  intellectual  as  when  as  a  small  boy  he  had  dreamed 
of  an  underground  railway.  But  there  had  grown 
subtly  into  his  face  a  look  of  grimness  and  unhappiness 
that  robbed  it  of  the  youth  it  still  should  have  retained. 

A  shock  headed  student  came  to  the  table  with  a 
bricquette. 

"  How  does  the  thesis  go,  Hallock?  "  asked  Roger. 

"  Slow,  just  now,  Mr.  Moore." 

"What's  the  trouble?" 

"  Oh,  the  best  of  the  information  is  in  German  and 
I'm  rotten  at  scientific  German." 

'  You've  taken  the  required  work  in  German,  haven't 
you,  Hallock?" 

"  Squeezed  through  by  a  hair's  breadth,"  the  boy 
answered  with  a  grin. 

Roger  grunted.  "  Neglected  it,  of  course,  when 
you've  been  told  time  and  time  again  that  a  reading 
knowledge  of  scientific  German  is  essential  to  research 
success.  I  wonder  why  an  undergraduate  has  to  be  a 
fool?" 

"  I'm  not  a  fool,"  contradicted  Hallock  flatly. 

"  Any  man's  a  fool  who's  working  his  way  through 
college  and  fails  to  get  the  most  he  can  out  of  every 
course  offered  him.  I  know,  because  I  worked  my  way 
through  my  last  two  years,  neglected  my  German  and 
had  to  make  it  up  after  I  graduated.  That  thesis  will 
make  or  mar  you  as  far  as  your  first  job  goes.  Who'd 
you  have  your  second  year  German  with?  If  I  were 
you,  I'd  take  a  semester  of  it  over  again." 

"  I'd  rather  never  get  a  diploma  than  go  back  to 
old  Rosenthal." 


54  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Mr.  Rosenthal,"  corrected  Roger  sharply.  "  Speak 
respectfully  of  an  instructor." 

"  Aw,"  exclaimed  Hallock,  now  evidently  angry, 
"  why  should  I  speak  respectfully  of  a  beer-guzzling 
Dutchman  who  sneers  at  the  girls  in  the  class  every 
time  they  recite  ?  " 

There  wras  sudden  silence  in  the  room.  Hallock  was 
evidently  relieving  an  accumulation  of  irritation.  "  If 
I  had  been  Miss  Anderson  this  morning  I'd  have 
slapped  his  fat  face  for  him." 

"  Be  careful,  Hallock !  I  can't  permit  you  to  talk 
this  way  to  me  about  a  member  of  the  faculty." 

"  Then  you're  no  better  than  he !  "  shouted  Hal- 
lock.  "  The  damned  Dutch  run  this  college  and  I'm 
sick  of  it." 

There  was  a  sudden  murmur  of  agreement  from  the 
highly  edified  audience  now  grouped  behind  Hallock. 
This  was  an  old  sore  that  had  existed  in  Roger's  own 
days  under  Rosenthal. 

"  Pshaw,  I  know  all  about  Mr.  Rosenthal's  pecca 
dillos,  Hallock,"  he  said.  "But  he's  a  teacher  and 
scholar  of  the  first  water.  Girls  always  take  general 
remarks  personally.  Miss  Anderson  had  better  for 
get  it,  whatever  it  was.  Girl  hysteria,  probably." 

Hallock  suddenly  began  to  cry  with  rage.  "  Hys 
teria,  damn  you,  don't  you  insult  her  too!  "  Then,  as 
an  angry  sneer  appeared  on  Roger's  face,  he  unex 
pectedly  leaned  over  the  table  and  punched  Roger  on 
the  nose. 

Roger  vaulted  over  the  table  and  with  a  rapid  clip 
laid  Hallock  flat.  The  boy  was  on  his  feet  in  a  mo 
ment,  crying,  but  game.  The  edified  audience  held 
the  two  apart. 


THE  NEW  DAY  55 

"  You  don't  know  what  the  Dutch  slob  said !  You 
don't  know,"  sobbed  Hallock. 

Roger  did  not  speak.  In  fact  he  could  not.  He 
stood  white  and  trembling  for  some  time,  a  scarlet 
trickle  of  blood  running  from  one  nostril.  His  strug 
gle  for  control  was  so  obvious  that  even  Hallock  per 
ceived  it  and  was  silent.  With  the  other  lads  he  stood 
in  embarrassment  while  the  laboratory  clock  ticked  and 
the  end  of  the  winter  sunset  filled  the  room. 

It  seemed  to  Roger  that  the  fight  was  as  difficult  now 
as  it  had  been  years  before,  when  he  had  struck  his 
mother's  soothing  hand  from  his  shoulder  and  later 
had  kissed  that  same  hand  and  had  wept  his  heart  out 
with  his  cheek  upon  it.  In  the  brief  moment  as  he 
stood  with  clenched  fists  and  bowed  head,  waiting  for 
the  red  mist  to  give  way  to  his  normal  vision  it  seemed 
as  if  all  his  life  passed  in  review  before  him  tinged 
with  the  hot  glare  of  his  mental  and  spiritual  tempests. 
Then,  as  many,  many  times  before,  he  seemed  to  feel 
the  gentle  hand,  that  he  had  struck,  laid  softly  on  his 
forehead.  He  heaved  a  great  sigh  and  looked  up. 

"  The  class  is  dismissed,"  he  said.  "  Hallock,  hold  a 
snowball  to  your  chin  as  you  go  home." 

When  the  class  had  left  the  room,  Roger  washed  his 
face  at  the  sink  in  the  corner,  wiping  his  hands  on  a 
towel  that  was  gray  with  age.  Then,  he  dropped  the 
towel  and  stood  leaning  against  the  table,  head  bowed, 
arms  folded. 

The  gloaming  increased.  A  cheerful  whistle 
sounded  in  the  hall  and  Ernest  came  in. 

"  Well,  old  top  ?     Ready  to  go  home  ?  " 

f<  Ern,  do  you  know  a  girl  named  Anderson  ?  " 

"  Yes,   very  pretty.     Engaged   to   young   Hallock, 


56  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

they  say.  What  about  her?  Don't  tell  me  you've 
begun  to  be  interested  again  in  petticoats." 

"  I  had  the  deuce  of  a  row  with  Hallock,  just  now," 
said  Roger. 

"  Change  your  clothes  as  you  tell  me  about  it,"  sug 
gested  Ernest.  "  It's  late." 

Roger  obediently  started  for  the  closet,  talking  from 
the  door  as  he  dressed.  Ernest  lighted  his  pipe  and 
listened  thoughtfully  under  the  electric  light  he  had 
turned  on.  He  was  a  shorter  man  than  Roger  and 
stockily  built.  He  was  still  very  fair,  with  soft  yellow 
hair  already  receding  from  a  broad  forehead.  His 
eyes  were  beautiful,  a  deep  violet,  soft  dreaming  eyes 
that  men  as  well  as  women  trusted  instinctively. 

"  I'm  sure  you've  seen  Miss  Anderson,"  he  said  when 
Roger  had  finished.  "  She's  a  funny  foolish  little 
thing.  Just  the  kind  to  attract  an  unsocialized  grind 
like  Hallock.  I  guess  there  was  a  good  deal  of  a  row 
in  Rosenthal's  class  this  morning.  One  of  the  seniors 
told  me.  Rosenthal  said  to  Miss  Anderson  —  say, 
Rog,  you're  not  listening." 

Roger  picked  up  his  hat.  "  I  don't  care  what  Ro 
senthal  said.  He  always  was  a  boor.  The  point  with 
me  is  that  I've  lost  my  temper  in  the  classroom  for  the 
last  time.  Come  on,  Ern." 

They  were  crossing  the  snowy  campus  before  Ernest 
spoke.  Then  he  laid  his  hand  on  his  friend's  arm. 

"  The  fool  kid  brought  it  on  himself.  I  can  see  how 
he  got  worked  up.  You  can  be  exasperating  and  he 
gave  you  what  he'd  like  to  have  given  Rosenthal. 
Nevertheless,  no  man  can  take  a  crack  on  the  chin  with 
a  thank  you,  Roger." 

Roger  did  not  reply.     They  turned  into  River  Street 


THE  NEW  DAY  57 

where  the  street  lights  flashed  through  the  bare 
branches  of  the  elms.  An  occasional  sleigh  jingled  by. 
Lights  glowed  from  pleasant  windows  where  children 
were  silhouetted  against  the  curtains.  Ernest  stopped 
before  the  big,  comfortable  Wolf  house. 

"  Come  in  to  supper,  Roger." 

"  I'll  not  be  good  company,  Ern,"  but  Roger's  voice 
was  wistful. 

"  Come  along !  Mother  doesn't  mind  your  grouches, 
and  I  guess  the  rest  of  us  can  endure  one  more." 

Roger  turned  up  the  brick  path  that  led  to  the  door. 

"Hello,  boys!"  Elsa  called,  as  the  front  door 
slammed.  "  You're  late !" 

Elschen  at  twenty-nine  was  still  very  pretty  in  an 
unobtrusive  way.  Her  yellow  hair  was  thick  and 
curly.  Her  eyes  were  like  Ernest's  and  her  skin  was 
fair,  with  a  velvety  flush  in  her  delicately  rounded 
cheeks. 

"  Supper's  ready,"  she  went  on.  "  Papa  just  came 
in.  Don't  keep  him  waiting,  children." 

Roger  and  Ernest  went  quickly  into  the  dining  room 
where  Papa  Wolf  was  just  sitting  down.  He  nodded 
to  them  over  his  spectacles,  then  helped  himself  to  a 
slice  of  meat. 

"Where's  Mamma?"  asked  Ernest,  passing  the 
bread  to  Roger. 

"Here,  liebchen!"  Mamma  Wolf  came  in,  carry 
ing  a  steaming  coffee  pot.  She  set  it  down,  then  hur 
ried  round  the  table  to  kiss  first  Ernest,  then  Roger. 

"  You  know  Rog  can't  eat  without  you,  Miitter- 
chen,"  laughed  Ernest. 

"  He  doesn't  get  his  manners  from  the  Germans," 
snapped  Elsa. 


58  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"Never  mind!  I've  gotten  the  only  home  life  I've 
known  in  eight  years  from  them,"  returned  Roger.  He 
and  Mamma  Wolf  exchanged  an  affectionate  glance. 

"  Pass  the  biscuits,  Elsa,"  said  Papa  Wolf. 

"  Going  anywhere  to-night,  Elsa  ?  "  asked  Ernest. 

"  Yes,  we  have  choir  practice  every  night  from  now 
to  Christmas." 

"  The  carols  are  beautiful ! "  exclaimed  Mamma 
Wolf.  "  I  heard  them  last  night  when  I  stopped  by  the 
church  for  Elsa.  Ernest,  pass  your  papa  the  preserves 
and  put  the  cake  where  he  can  reach  it.  It's  fresh,  Papa, 
never  fear.  I  only  finished  frosting  it  as  you  came  in." 
Mamma  Wolf  looked  at  her  husband  a  little  anxiously. 

"  That  Smithsonian  man  telephoned  you  again  this 
afternoon,  Ernest,"  said  Elsa.  "  He  wanted  to  call 
this  evening  and  I  told  him  to  come  along." 

"  I  wonder  what  he  wants,"  mused  Roger.  "  He's 
been  hanging  round  for  a  long  time." 

"Pass  the  biscuits,  Ernest,"  from  Papa  Wolf. 
11  The  cake  is  very  bad,  Mamma." 

"  Oh,  Papa,  is  it  ?  And  I  took  such  trouble !  "  The 
distress  in  the  gentle  voice  made  Roger  scowl. 

"  In  America,  Papa,"  Elsa's  voice  was  mocking, 
"  where  you  have  lived  for  some  forty  years,  it  is  not 
considered  courteous  to  criticize  the  food  at  the  table." 

"  Hush,  Elschen !  Papa  can  say  what  he  wishes, 
always,  to  me.  Is  it  not  so,  Karl  ?  " 

Papa  Wolf  pushed  away  his  plate,  wiped  his  mus 
tache  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair  with  a  smile  and  a 
sigh  of  repletion. 

"  You  spoil  us  all,  Mamma !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Elsa, 
Uncle  Hugo  comes  to-night  and  we  will  have  a  little 
music.  You  will  give  up  choir  practice,  just  for  once." 


THE  NEW  DAY  59 

Ernest  glanced  at  his  sister  apprehensively.  She 
flushed  resentfully.  "  But  I  must  go,  Papa ! "  she 
cried.  "  I  take  the  salary  the  church  pays  me.  I 
must  sing  well." 

"  Laughing  and  flirting  with  the  new  bass  is  not 
practice,"  returned  Papa.  '  You  stay  at  home  to 
night,  Elschen." 

Elsa  glanced  at  Ernest,  who  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
Then  she  gave  a  long  look  at  her  father  with  eyes  that 
were  black  with  anger. 

"  Papa,  I'm  going  to  choir  practice,"  she  insisted. 

Her  father  brought  his  fist  down  on  the  table. 
"Am  I  or  am  I  not  master  in  my  own  house?"  he 
shouted.  "  Elsa,  what  you  have  needed  was  a  Ger 
man  upbringing.  You  will  stay  at  home  to-night  and 
make  music  with  Hugo  and  me." 

"  Papa,"  said  Elsa  slowly,  "  I  am  twenty-nine  years 
old  and  I  can't  endure  this  sort  of  thing  much  longer. 
Mother  and  I  are  just  unpaid  servants  for  — 

"Elsa!  Bitte!  Bitte  sehr!"  exclaimed  Mother 
Wolf. 

Elsa's  dark  look  went  to  her  mother,  then  to  Roger, 
who  was  still  scowling.  Her  lips  trembled.  She 
shrugged  her  shoulders  and  rising  began  to  clear  the 
table. 

The  three  men  went  into  the  library  and  lighted 
their  pipes.  Papa  Wolf,  having  with  much  difficulty 
persuaded  his  meerschaum  to  draw,  parted  his  coat- 
tails  and  settled  himself  on  the  piano  stool.  Then  he 
threw  his  head  back  while  he  touched  a  few  quiet 
chords.  He  had  a  beautiful,  massive  head.  Roger, 
ensconced  in  a  deep  Morris  chair,  thought,  as  he  had 
thought  many  times  before,  that  it  was  a  head  that 


60  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

should  have  belonged  to  an  artist  rather  than  to  a  dry 
goods  merchant.  The  chords  merged  into  a  quiet 
melody.  Ernest  buried  his  head  in  the  evening  paper. 
Roger  let  his  pipe  go  out  and  his  face  settled  into  lines 
that  added  ten  years  to  his  age. 

The  subdued  clatter  of  dishes  from  the  kitchen 
finally  ceased  and  Elsa  came  through  the  room.  Her 
father  stopped  her  as  she  passed  and  put  his  arm  about 
her  waist. 

"  Sweetheart,  don't  be  cross  with  me,"  he  said. 
"  It's  just  that  Papa  so  loves  to  have  his  little  girl  with 
him." 

Elsa  put  her  hand  on  his  gray  head  and  looked  down 
into  his  face  but  said  nothing. 

"  Come  now,"  he  went  on,  "  sing  a  little  song  of 
forgiveness  with  me." 

Still  with  his  arm  about  her  he  played  with  one 
hand  and  sang  as  he  played : 

"  Du,  du !  liegst  mir  im  Herzen ! 
Du,  du !  liegst  mir  im  Sinn ! 
Du !  du !  machst  mir  viel  Schmerzen 
Weiss  nicht  wie  gut  ich  dir  bin." 

There  was  a  sudden  ring  at  the  doorbell  and  with  a 
little  laugh  that  was  half  a  sob,  Elsa  hurried  to  let 
Uncle  Hugo  in.  He  was  tall,  thin  and  blonde,  yet  his 
resemblance  to  Mamma  Wolf,  his  sister,  was  unmistak 
able. 

"  So !  We  make  a  little  music  to-night,"  he  boomed 
in  a  rich  bass,  "  and  the  audience  is  set,"  bowing  iron 
ically  to  Roger,  still  in  the  clouds,  and  Ernest,  his  head 
still  in  the  paper.  "  Where  is  the  Miitterchen?  " 


THE  NEW  DAY  61 

"  Coming  in  a  minute,"  called  Mamma,  from  the 
dining  room.  "  I  can  hear.  Go  ahead." 

Elsa  sat  down  at  the  piano.  Papa  Wolf  opened  his 
'cello  case.  Uncle  Hugo  put  his  silver  flute  to  his  lips 
and  played  a  tentative  sweet  note.  In  a  moment  the 
strains  of  Schubert's  Serenade,  exquisitely  rendered, 
filled  the  quiet  house.  Roger  relighted  his  pipe  and 
let  it  go  out.  Whenever  over  her  shoulder,  Elsa  cast 
a  quick  glance  at  him,  his  gaze  was  fastened  intently 
on  the  ceiling. 

For  an  hour  the  music  continued  without  interrup 
tion.  Then  the  doorbell  rang  again  and  Ernest  went 
to  answer  it. 

"  Come  into  the  den  so  we  won't  disturb  the  con 
cert,"  Roger  heard  him  say.  "  Rog,  come  in  here, 
will  you?  " 

Roger  obediently  made  his  way  into  a  little  room  off 
the  dining  room,  devoted  to  the  men  of  the  household. 
A  short  smooth-shaven,  sandy-haired  man  was  stand 
ing  by  the  reading  table.  Roger  and  he  shook  hands. 

"  I've  been  talking  to  Dr.  Austin  a  good  deal  about 
your  solar  heat  apparatus,  Rog,"  said  Ernest,  "  and 
he's  got  a  proposition  to  make.  Let's  sit  down  and 
talk  it  out." 

He  pushed  a  jar  of  tobacco  toward  Austin  and  the 
three  men,  eyeing  one  another  with  frank  interest,  set 
tled  themselves  in  the  easy  chairs  which  Ernest  indi 
cated  with  a  nod. 

"  I  think  Ernest  said  that  you  represent  the  Smith 
sonian  Institute,"  Roger  said.  "  What  do  you  want 
to  do  ?  Put  my  engine  in  your  museum  ?  "  This 
with  a  short  laugh. 

Austin  shook  his  head.     "  I  see  you  are  about  as 


62  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

ignorant  as  the  rest  of  the  world  as  to  the  real  nature 
of  our  work.  Confess  now !  " 

Ernest  smiled.  "  I  suppose  I've  been  reading  papers 
and  reports  from  the  Smithsonian  for  ten  years,  but 
until  I  met  you,  Mr.  Austin,  I  was  certainly  vague 
about  who  or  what  the  work  represented.  Go  ahead 
and  give  Moore  the  explanation  you  gave  me,  will 
you?" 

"  Well,"  began  Austin,  "  an  Englishman  named 
Smithson  left  his  estate  to  his  nephew  named  Hunger- 
ford  with  the  stipulation  that  if  Hungerford  died 
without  heirs,  the  state  was  to  go  to  found  the  Smith 
sonian  Institution  in  America.  Hungerford  oblig 
ingly  died  without  issue.  It  was  in  1835,  I  think,  and 
after  a  great  deal  of  red  tape,  about  half  a  million 
dollars  was  turned  over  to  the  American  Congress  to 
go  to  work  with. 

"Of  course,  Congress  did  considerable  false  step 
ping  but  finally  the  Institution  was  organized  with  the 
avowed  purpose  of  increasing  and  diffusing  knowledge. 
Rather  a  large  program,  eh !  It  was  proposed  to  carry 
this  program  out  by  stimulating  talented  men  to  make 
original  researches  by  offering  prizes,  by  appropriating 
every  year  a  sum  of  money  for  particular  researches 
and  by  every  year  publishing  reports  on  the  progress 
of  difficult  branches  of  knowledge. 

"  The  original  bequest  has  been  increased  until  now 
the  Institution  has  use  of  the  income  on  a  million 
dollars.  You'll  be  surprised  to  know  how  much  real 
work  has  been  done  by  this  very  little  advertised  branch 
of  our  government.  For  example,  out  of  the  system 
of  weather  observation  developed  by  the  Institution 
grew  the  United  States  Weather  Bureau.  The  United 


THE  NEW  DAY  63 

States  Ethnological  Research  is  all  done  by  us  —  as 
witness  the  monumental  studies  of  our  American  In 
dians.  Powell's  great  explorations  were  fathered  by 
the  Smithsonian  and  so  were  Langley's  experiments  in 
flying  machines  as  well  as  his  studies  of  solar  heat." 

"  My  word!  "  exclaimed  Roger,  "  so  they  were! " 

"  When  I  was  in  the  northern  part  of  the  state,  last 
summer,  studying  certain  Indian  mounds,  I  ran  across 
one  of  your  fellow  instructors  who  mentioned  your 
work  in  heat  engineering.  I've  always  been  much  in 
terested  in  that  line  of  research,  so  when  I  came  West 
again  I  tried  to  get  in  touch  with  you." 

"  I'm  not  hard  to  reach,  surely,"  said  Roger. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  are,"  returned  Austin. 

"  It  was  this  way,  Rog,"  Ernest's  lazy,  gentle  voice 
interrupted.  "  I  kept  Dr.  Austin  away  from  you  until 
I  felt  that  there  was  some  hope.  I  didn't  want  you  to 
have  another  disappointment." 

"  As  I  got  your  idea  from  Mr.  Wolf,  it  seems  to  me 
that  the  Smithsonian  might  be  glad  to  back  you  in 
further  experiments,"  said  Austin. 

Roger's  thin  face  flushed  as  it  was  apt  to  do  when 
his  work  was  under  discussion.  "  This  is  mighty  kind 
of  you,  Dr.  Austin,  but  my  work  has  gone  beyond  the 
experimental  stage.  I'm  ready  to  erect  Solar  Power 
Plants  if  I  can  find  the  money." 

"  Rog,  you're  not  ready ! "  cried  Ernest,  with  un 
usual  vehemence.  "  You've  no  idea  of  the  troubles 
you'll  be  up  against  when  you  try  actually  to  erect  a 
working  plant,  in  a  hot  country." 

"  I'm  not  afraid,"  returned  Roger  shortly.  "  One 
thing  is  certain,  I'm  not  going  on  experimenting  any 
longer." 


64  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  My  understanding  of  your  device  is,  that  it  is 
practical  only  in  tropical  or  semi-tropical  climates/' 
said  Austin. 

"  This  first  device  is,  yes,"  answered  Roger  shortly. 
"  If  I  can  ever  get  this  one  launched,  I  shall  take  up 
other  climates/' 

Austin  eyed  Roger  keenly  for  a  moment,  then  he  said 
suddenly, 

"  Why  don't  you  let  me  see  your  plans  ?  We  might 
possibly  have  something  to  say  that  would  interest 
you."  f| 

"Oh,  of  course!  I  wish  I  had  some  of  them 
here.  And  it's  too  late  to  go  up  to  the  laboratory 
to-night." 

"Wait  a  moment,  Roger!  Wait  a  moment,"  ex 
claimed  Ernest.  "  Praying  that  we'd  get  to  this  point 
to-night,  I  brought  down  a  set  of  drawings."  He  un 
locked  a  drawer  of  the  table  and  pulled  out  a  roll  of 
paper. 

Roger  spread  some  of  the  sheets  on  the  table  and  the 
black,  the  yellow  and  the  sandy  heads  bent  over  them. 

"  This,"  began  Roger,  "  is  the  general  ground  plan 
of  a  plant  designed  to  produce  about  50  horse  power. 
This  detail  here,  which  looks  like  a  design  for  a 
glassed-in  hot  bed  for  early  cabbage,  is  the  heat  ab 
sorber.  It  consists  of  a  trough  lined  with  some  insu 
lating  material,  covered  with  two  layers  of  ordinary 
window  glass.  Under  this  window  glass  I  flow  crude 
oil,  which  absorbs  the  sun's  heat  as  it  comes  through 
the  glass.  I  get  some  remarkable  temperatures,  right 
here  in  Eagle's  Wring.  Here  is  a  month's  thermometer 
readings  during  July. 

Austin  studied  the  table  thoughtfully.     "  The  heated 


THE  NEW  DAY  6$ 

oil  is  the  fuel  for  a  low  pressure  engine.  What  en 
gine  do  you  use  ?  " 

"  One  of  my  own  design.     Here  are  the  drawings." 

Austin  bent  over  these  with  absorbed  interest  and 
for  an  hour  Roger  answered  his  questions.  At  the  end 
of  this  time,  Austin  lighted  his  pipe,  which  had  gone 
out,  and  took  a  turn  or  two  up  and  down  the  room. 
Then  he  paused  suddenly  in  front  of  Roger  and  said, 
"  Why  don't  you  go  down  into  Arizona  and  put  up  a 
small  pumping  plant  as  an  experiment  for  the  Smith 
sonian?  I  know  this  is  not  the  large  way,  the  com 
mercial  way,  but  I  am  convinced  that  this  is  the 
careful,  practical  way.  Your  friend  Wolf  tells  me 
that  the  most  popular  reason  given  by  the  business 
houses  you've  visited  for  turning  you  down  has  been 
that  you've  never  actually  erected  a  working  plant. 
Why  not  try  it  for  us  ?  Then  you'll  be  in  a  position  to 
talk  business." 

Roger,  his  face  a  still  deeper  red,  looked  from  Aus 
tin  to  Ernest  and  back  again.  He  relighted  his  pipe 
with  fingers  that  shook. 

"  How  big  a  plant?  "  he  asked  huskily. 

"  Big  enough  to  irrigate  about  twenty-five  acres  of 
desert  for  alfalfa.  I'm  convinced  that  when  you  ac 
tually  undertake  to  put  such  a  plant  in  operation,  you'll 
realize  that  there  are  details  to  be  remade  that  you 
never  dreamed  of,  on  paper." 

Roger  did  not  speak  for  a  moment.  Five  years  ago 
he  would  have  refused  such  an  offer  as  this,  without 
hesitation.  It  was  very  different,  this,  from  turning 
out  say  a  thousand  units  in  six  months.  Yet,  so  long 
had  hope  been  deferred  that  Roger  hesitated,  not  for 
lack  of  enthusiasm  for  Austin's  offer,  but  because  the 


66  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

sudden  joy  that  rose  within  him  made  it  difficult  to 
speak.  Finally  he  turned  to  Ernest,  who  was  watch 
ing  him  with  a  look  of  inexpressible  satisfaction  in  his 
beautiful  eyes. 

"  Will  you  go  with  me,  Ern?  " 

"  The  family  will  kick,  but  I'm  going,"  answered 
Ernest. 

"What  are  the  terms,  Dr.  Austin?"  asked  Roger. 

"  We'll  buy  all  machinery  and  apparatus  and  pay  for 
labor  and  living  up  to  ten  thousand  dollars." 

Roger  could  not  believe  that  his  sterile  years  of  en 
deavor  and  disappointment  were  to  bring  forth  even 
this  small  fruit.  He  laid  his  pipe  down,  picked  it  up, 
then  said,  "  I  can't  tell  you  what  this  opportunity  means 
to  me.  It's  —  it's  my  work,  you  see,  and  —  and  — " 

"  That's  all  right,"  Austin  spoke  hastily.  "  When 
can  you  start?  I  know  exactly  the  spot  in  Arizona 
that  we  would  wish  you  to  go  to  —  Archer's  Springs. 
Have  you  a  map  of  Arizona?  " 

"  Yes,  some  of  the  Geological  Survey  maps,"  said 
Ernest,  opening  up  a  chart  case. 

"  Here's  the  spot."  Austin  put  his  pencil  on  the  map. 
"  It's  about  twenty  miles  north  of  the  railroad,  a  min 
ing  country,  but  we've  always  believed  that  the  val 
leys  here  could  blossom  if  we  could  get  water  to  them. 
The  Reclamation  Service  never  expects  to  get  in  there." 

"  I  know  that,"  said  Roger  eagerly,  "  and  yet  a 
cheap  power  would  make  an  inland  empire  of  .that 
section." 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  it?  "  asked  Austin. 

"  No,  Chicago  has  been  my  uttermost  limit  of  travel 
so  far.  But  I've  studied  hot  countries  and  their  re 
sources  for  ten  years." 


THE  NEW  DAY  67 

"  My  idea  is,"  said  Austin,  "  that  we  buy  all  our 
supplies  at  St.  Louis.  I'll  go  that  far  with  you.  You 
can  buy  the  essentials  for  making  camp  at  Archer's 
Springs  and  by  the  time  you  are  ready  for  it,  freight 
will  have  brought  the  rest.  I  believe  there  is  an  excel 
lent  trading  store  at  Archer's  Springs  where  you  can 
buy  a  camp  outfit.  I'll  wire  down  and  find  out." 

"Jove,  Rog,  doesn't  that  sound  great!"  exclaimed 
Ernest. 

"  When  shall  we  plan  to  start?  "  asked  Roger. 

"  Why  not  at  once,  so  as  to  get  the  plant  running  by 
Spring,  when  the  real  heat  comes  on?  "  Austin  looked 
from  one  eager  face  to  the  other. 

u  We  both  are  teaching,  you  know,"  said  Ernest. 
"  I  thought  next  June  — " 

"  Next  June!  "  shouted  Roger.  "  This  is  the  first 
of  December,  Dr.  Austin.  We'll  have  found  substi 
tutes  and  be  ready  to  trayel  immediately  after  the 
Christmas  recess." 

Ernest  winced.  "  That's  crowding  things !  But  — 
well,  you're  the  boss  of  the  expedition,  Rog.  I'll  be 
with  you.'* 

"  Fine ! "  Austin  rubbed  his  hands  together. 
"  We'll  start  our  purchase  list  now,  eh?  " 

The  concert,  which  had  proceeded  during  the  eve 
ning  without  interruption,  now  stopped  abruptly,  just 
as  the  clock  struck  ten. 

"How  about  deferring  that  until  to-morrow?" 
asked  Roger.  "  I've  a  number  of  lists  in  my  desk  at 
the  Science  Building  that  will  help  us." 

'  That's  a  good  idea,"  Austin  rose  as  he  spoke. 
"  Will  you  both  take  dinner  with  me  at  the  hotel  to 
morrow  evening  and  we  can  give  the  evening  to  this?  " 


68  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  We'll  be  there,"  replied  Roger,  following  Austin 
to  the  door.  When  he  returned,  Ernest  was  locking 
up  the  drawings.  "  Well,  Ern,  old  boy,  it's  not  big 
business,  but  thanks  to  you,  it's  a  real  start  in  that  di 
rection,  anyhow.  How  can  I  thank  you  ?  " 

"  By  helping  me  to  break  the  news  to  the  family. 
It's  most  deucedly  short  notice.  We'll  have  some 
trouble  in  finding  substitutes  for  our  classroom  work." 

"  I'm  sure  Benson  and  Ames  will  be  only  too  glad  of 
the  "chance,"  Roger  spoke  decidedly.  "  I  thought  of 
them  this  afternoon.  I  swear  I  was  in  earnest  in  say 
ing  I  was  through  with  teaching.  And  now  this !  It's 
like  a  double  answer  to  prayer." 

"  Boys !  "  called  Elsa,  "  the  beer  is  waiting." 

Ernest  was  well  into  his  second  stein  and  his  third 
cheese  sandwich  before,  in  response  to  repeated  kicks 
from  Roger,  he  made  his  announcement.  There  was  a 
moment's  silence,  broken  by  Elsa. 

"  Lucky  dogs !     Take  me  along !  " 

"  But,  Ernest,  you  cannot  go,"  protested  Papa  Wolf. 
"  Let  Roger  go  if  he  wishes.  I  have  nothing  to  say 
to  that.  But,  my  son,  with  the  chance  for  a  full  pro 
fessorship  in  a  great  university  —  no !  " 

Roger  sighed.  He  was  sorry  for  Ernest,  but  he 
never  could  understand  his  docile  relationship  to  his 
father.  Ernest  came  back,  pluckily  enough. 

"I  think  I  ought  to  go,  Papa.  It  will  be  a  fine 
experience  and  I  will  come  back  to  teaching  with  a  new 
interest." 

"But  why  waste  time?  Why  waste  time?"  cried 
his  father.  "  You  are  nearly  thirty.  Instead  of  play 
ing  in  the  desert  for  a  year,  you  should  be  marrying 
and  starting  a  home." 


THE  NEW  DAY  69 

"  It  won't  be  play,  Mr.  Wolf,"  said  Roger.  "  It'll 
be  bitter  hard  work,  but  it  will  add  considerably  to 
Ernest's  reputation." 

"  Pah !  Pah !  Was  isfs!  "  snorted  the  older  man. 
"  You  are  a  good  boy,  Roger,  but  you  are  full  of 
foolishness.  You  are  bad  for  Ernest." 

"  Pshaw,  Papa,  don't  talk  like  a  goose,"  protested 
Elsa,  her  cheeks  crimson.  "  All  the  initiative  Ernest's 
got,  Roger  gave  him.  Why  not  let  Ernest  see  a  little 
of  life  before  he  settles  down  forever?  Let  him  have 
just  one  adventure,  for  goodness  sake." 

"  Will  you  be  still,  Elsa  ?  "  asked  her  father  sternly. 

"  Hush,  Elschen,"  whispered  Mamma  Wolf. 

"  Roger  should  be  settling  down  and  finding  a  wife 
for  himself,"  Papa  Wolf  went  on.  "  He'd  soon  get 
over  his  absentminded  ways." 

Ernest  suddenly  laughed.  "  Why,  Papa,  Roger 
looks  on  women  about  the  way  you  look  on  inventors." 

"  Dry  up,  Ern,"  said  Roger. 

"  What  sort  of  a  thing  is  it,  this  desert  machine?  " 
asked  Uncle  Hugo. 

"  It's  a  method  of  utilizing  solar  heat  for  power," 
replied  Roger. 

"  Ah,  yes,  the  big  umbrella-like  things.  I've  seen 
them  in  the  pictures." 

"  Not  at  all,"  corrected  Roger  crossly. 

Ernest  spoke  suddenly,  very  firmly  but  without  rais 
ing  his  gentle  voice.  "  I'm  sorry  to  go  against  your 
wishes,  Papa,  but  I'm  going,  just  the  same." 

His  father's  mouth  opened  in  astonishment.  There 
was  silence  for  a  moment,  broken  by  a  sob  from 
Mamma  Wolf.  Then  Papa  Wolf  roared :  "  So 
that's  it!  You  are  of  age.  But  disobedience  I  will 


70  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

not  countenance.  If  you  go,  never  again  can  you  live 
in  my  house." 

"  Oh,  Karl!  "  cried  Mamma  Wolf. 

Elsa  sniffed  audibly.  "  What  a  tempest  over  a  little 
thing !  Uncle  Hugo,  have  some  more  beer  ?  " 

"  I  must  be  going,"  said  Hugo,  taking  the  beer  nev 
ertheless. 

"  So  must  I,"  exclaimed  Roger,  rising  hastily. 
"  Then  it's  settled,  Ernest?  " 

Ernest  leaned  over  to  take  another  sandwich.  "  It's 
settled.  Don't  cry,  Miitterchen.  I'll  bring  you  home 
a  horned  toad  and  you  can  make  me  a  bed  and  serve 
my  meals  in  the  garage." 

Roger  took  Mamma  Wolf's  hand  and  kissed  her 
cheek.  "  Good  night,  dear,"  he  whispered. 

Mamma  Wolf  smiled  bravely  and  clung  to  his 
fingers  for  a  moment.  "  You  have  made  me  sad, 
Roger,  but  I  can't  help  loving  you!  " 

Roger  kissed  her  again.  "  I'm  not  going  to  let  you 
be  sad  long.  I'll  bring  Ernie  back  to  you  safe  and 
sound.  Well,  I'm  off  to  bed!  Good  night,  Elsa!" 
and  he  was  gone  with  a  bang  of  the  front  door. 

The  days  to  Christmas  flew  by  with  unbelievable 
speed.  Papa  Wolf  washed  his  hands  of  the  whole 
adventure,  as  Elsa  continued  to  call  it,  and  refused  to 
allow  any  mention  of  it  in  his  hearing.  This  was 
Ernest's  first  insurrection,  and  his  father  seemed  to 
have  no  tool  but  silence  with  which  to  combat  it. 
Christmas  eve  and  Christmas  day  were  celebrated  with 
all  the  usual  beautiful  German  customs.  It  seemed 
to  Roger  that  he  enjoyed  them  more  each  year,  and 
this  year,  with  the  novel  sense  of  achievement  in  his 
heart,  the  joy  of  the  day  was  unalloyed. 


THE  NEW  DAY  71 

Although  Papa  Wolf  was  obdurate  about  the  adven 
ture,  his  big  heart  could  not  permit  him  to  allow  him 
to  let  Austin  spend  Christmas  day  in  a  hotel.  When 
he  learned  that  Austin  had  a  wife  and  child  in  Wash 
ington,  nothing  would  do  but  that  the  Smithsonian 
man  should  share  in  a  home  Christmas.  Papa  Wolf 
provided  another  guest  also,  a  stranger  named  Adolph 
Werner.  He  was  a  German  banker,  traveling  across 
America  on  business,  and  the  Wolf  family  was  in 
structed  to  treat  him  with  great  deference.  Stout  and 
bespectacled,  he  proved  a  delightful  guest  and  Dr. 
Austin  displayed  a  gift  for  comic  songs  that  brought 
the  house  down. 

The  two  guests  discovered  that  they  both  had  studied 
for  several  years  in  Munich  and  a  great  meeting  of 
spirits  followed,  materially  assisted  by  Papa  Wolf, 
Uncle  Hugo  and  a  bowl  of  Gliih  Wein.  And  when 
it  was  still  further  discovered  that  Werner's  next  stop 
ping  place  was  St.  Louis,  he  was  invited  at  once  to 
join  the  Sun  Planters,  as  Elsa  had  dubbed  them.  He 
accepted  at  once  and  on  New  Year's  Day,  with  Elsa 
and  her  mother  weeping  and  Papa  Wolf  blinking  back 
tears  but  sternly  refusing  to  say  good-by,  the  party 
pulled  out  of  the  little  Eagle's  Wing  station.  Herr 
Werner  proved  to  be  a  delightful  traveling  companion 
and  he  became  so  much  interested  in  the  details  of  the 
experiment  that  he  insisted  that  he  be  invited  to  visit 
the  plant;  an  invitation  that  was  given  most  cordially 
by  Roger. 

Thanks  to  Dr.  Austin's  experienced  presence,  the 
purchases  in  St.  Louis  were  made  in  record  time  and  at 
the  end  of  the  second  week  in  January,  Roger  and 
Ernest  set  forth  alone  for  the  desert  country. 


72  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

It  was  their  first  trip  west  of  the  Mississippi  and 
both  men  were  absorbed  in  watching  the  changes  of 
scenery  as  the  train  whirled  from  one  state  to  the  next. 
Albuquerque  was  an  hour  behind  when  Ernest  came 
into  the  smoking  compartment  where  Roger  was  en 
gaged  in  drawing  on  the  back  of  an  old  envelope. 

"  Say,  Rog,  I  know  you  aren't  interested  in  the  sex, 
but  there's  the  most  unusual  little  girl  on  the  train. 
She's  seven  years  old  and  traveling  all  alone.  Her 
name  is  Felicia.  She  got  in  at  Kansas  City.  They 
checked  her  through  like  a  pup.  She's  going  out  to 
join  her  brother  and  sister  on  a  mining  claim  near 
Archer's  Springs." 

Roger  did  not  stop  his  pencil.  "  Seems  as  if  we'd 
have  neighbors,"  he  said. 

"  I  hope  this  is  a  sample  of  Archer's  Springs  girls !  " 
said  Ernest.  "  Honestly,  Roger,  she's  a  lovely  kid. 
Come  on  back  and  see  her.  I'm  going  to  take  her  out 
on  the  observation  platform  with  me." 

Roger  grunted,  and  Ernest,  with  a  grin,  left  him  in 
peace.  It  was  an  hour  later  when  Roger,  having  for 
gotten  a'bout  the  child,  but  wanting  to  ask  Ernest  a 
question,  made  his  way  to  the  observation  platform. 
It  was  so  exceedingly  dusty  that  Ernest  and  his  little 
friend  had  it  to  themselves. 

"  Here  she  is,  little  Felicia!  "  cried  Ernest.  "  And 
here  he  is,  big  Roger !  " 

The  little  girl  looked  up  at  Roger.  He  returned  the 
look  with  a  surprised  interest.  He  did  not  know  much 
about  little  girls,  but  it  seemed  to  him  that  she  must 
be  rather  unusual.  She  had  large  brown  eyes  of  as 
tounding  depth  and  softness.  She  was  tall  for  her 
seven  years,  tall  and  graceful,  in  a  short  soiled  blue 


THE  NEW  DAY  73 

gingham  dress,  and  socks  wrinkling  down  on  stubby 
Oxford  ties.  Her  hair  was  brown,  curly  and  short. 
There  were  lovely  curves  in  her  scarlet  drooping  lips, 
and  a  fine  arch  in  her  head,  above  the  ears. 

She  made  a  little  curtsey  and  shook  hands  in  the 
limp  manner  of  childhood.  Roger  smiled  at  her,  and 
sat  down. 

"  Ernest,  what  was  the  size  of  the  glass  you  and 
Dr.  Austin  were  finally  able  to  get?  " 

"  Eight  by  twelve.  Felicia,  tell  Mr.  Moore  where 
you're  going." 

"  Out  to  live  with  Charley  and  Dick,"  said  the  child 
obediently. 

"  Have  they  been  there  long?  "  asked  Roger,  lighting 
his  pipe. 

"  Ever  since  Mother  died.  They  left  me  with  Aunt 
May.  But  now  I'm  going  out  to  be  with  Charley. 
Dear,  dearest  Charley,  that's  what  Aunt  May  says." 

"  Charley  must  be  your  favorite  brother,"  com 
mented  Roger,  a  trifle  absentmindedly  as  he  tried  to 
define  the  disconcerting  attraction  Felicia  had  for 
him. 

"  Ho !  How  silly  you  are !  "  laughed  the  little  girl. 
"  Charley's  my  big  only  sister.  Her  whole  name  is 
Charlotte  Emerson  Preble  and  she  looks  just  like  me. 
Aunt  May  says  so." 

"  Preble !  "  exclaimed  both  the  men. 

"  Charley  Preble !  "  Roger  went  on.  "  Ern,  don't 
you  remember  the  pretty  little  girl  who  used  to  play 
with  us?" 

"  Of  course  I  do.  That's  why  Felicia  has  been  puz 
zling  us  so.  We  were  just  kids,  but  seems  to  me  Char 
ley  looked  exactly  as  she  does." 


74  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Did  sister  Charley  ever  talk  to  you  about  Eagle's 
Wing  ?  "  asked  Roger. 

"  I  don't  recollect  Charley.  She  went  out  to  take 
care  of  Dick  when  I  was  so  little.  Charley's  awful 
good.  She'll  take  such  care  of  me  as  never  was  on 
sea  or  land.  Aunt  May  says  so.  And  I'll  love  her 
more  than  I  do  God." 

"  Was  Dick  sick  ?  I  remember  him  as  a  big,  husky 
boy,  don't  you,  Ern?  " 

Ernest  shook  his  head.  "  I  don't  remember  him. 
You  were  the  one  who  used  to  go  out  to  Trebles'  to 
play." 

"  Dicky  was  sick,"  Felicia  piped  on.  "  Dicky's  like 
Dad.  He'll  never  amount  to  much,  Aunt  May  says." 

"  Look  at  the  queer  kind  of  cactus  we're  beginning 
to  pass,  Felicia,"  interrupted  Roger,  hastily. 

Felicia  leaned  against  his  knee.  No  little  girl  ever 
had  done  so  before  and  Roger  looked  at  her  curiously. 

"  The  desert's  awful  homely,  isn't  it?  "  she  said. 

"  It  certainly  is,"  agreed  Ernest,  lighting  a  fresh 
cigar. 

For  a  moment  the  three  stared  at  the  unending 
wastes  of  brown  and  gray-green,  belled  over  by  a 
cloudless  sapphire  sky. 

"  Homely  and  hot,  but  I  don't  care  as  long  as  I'm 
where  Charley  is.  I  don't  remember  her,  but  I  know 
how  I'm  going  to  feel  about  her."  Here  she  took  a 
long  look  into  Roger's  gray  eyes.  "  I  guess  I'd  like  to 
sit  in  your  lap,"  she  suggested. 

Roger  lifted  her  to  his  knees  and  she  settled  back 
comfortably  in  the  hollow  of  his  arm.  A  flooding 
sense  of  tenderness  surprised  him  into  silence. 

"  You  are  deserting  me,"  protested  Ernest. 


THE  NEW  DAY  75 

"No,  I'm  not/'  returned  little  Felicia  Preble.  "I 
like  you  very  much  but  I  feel  as  if  I'd  like  to  sit  in 
Roger's  lap." 

And  in  Roger's  lap  she  sat,  while  the  racing  purple 
shadows  on  the  yellow  desert  gradually  grew  black, 
until  the  yellow  turned  to  lavender,  and  both  gradually 
merged  into  a  twilight  that  was  silvered  by  star-glow 
before  the  last  crimson  disappeared  in  the  west.  She 
sat  there  long  after  Ernest  went  inside  to  read,  in  the 
same  quiet  that  enwrapped  Roger.  It  was  a  strange 
quiet  for  Roger ;  a  quiet  of  sweetness  and  content  that 
he  had  not  known  since  his  mother's  death.  With  that 
warm,  supple  little  body  pressed  against  him,  his  mind 
for  once  left  his  work  and  paused  to  ponder  on  the 
loneliness  of  the  past  sixteen  years  and  on  the  thrilling 
promise  of  the  desert  star-glow.  No  human  being  can 
be  completely  sane  who  does  not  pause  at  intervals  to 
express  the  tenderness  that  marks  humans  from  ani 
mals.  But  Roger  did  not  know  this. 

It  was  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  the  train 
pulled  in  to  Archer's  Springs  and  Ernest,  Roger  and 
Felicia  alighted.  They  stood  for  a  moment  in  silence 
after  the  train  pulled  out.  They  were  apparently  the 
only  persons  awake  in  the  world. 

"  Where's  Charley  ?  "  asked  Felicia  suddenly. 

The  station  door  opened  and  the  baggage  man,  in 
blue  overalls  and  jumper,  appeared.  He  was  frankly 
interested  in  the  new  arrivals  and  answered  Ernest's 
question  promptly. 

"  Preble  ?  Sure !  Dick  Preble  was  here  the  first  of 
the  week.  Told  me  he'd  be  in  next  week  to  meet  the 
little  girl.  How'd  you  come  a  week  early,  sissy?  " 

Felicia's  lip  was  quivering.     "  I  don't  know!     Aunt 


76  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Mary  put  me  on  the  train  and  said  Charley  would 


meet  me." 


"  Can  we  telephone  them?  "  asked  Ernest. 

The  baggage  man  grinned.  "  Telephone  ?  Boys, 
come  here  a  minute." 

He  led  them  to  the  other  side  of  the  concrete  station 
where  the  view  was  unobstructed  by  the  train  shed,  and 
pointed  northeast. 

"  Take  a  look,"  he  suggested. 

The  station  platform  ended  in  yellow  sand.  Across 
an  open  space  were  some  one-story  buildings ;  beyond 
these  an  indefinite  level  of  sand  that  melted,  at  what 
distance  one  could  not  say,  into  a  line  of  mountains 
that  were  black  and  crimson  and  at  last  snow-capped 
against  the  translucent  blue  of  the  morning  sky. 

"  This  road,"  said  the  baggage  man,  "  goes  along 
pretty  good  for  eight  or  ten  miles  north,  then  it's  noth 
ing  but  a  wagon  track  trail.  If  you  follow  it  for 
twenty-five  miles  you  reach  Treble's  mine.  He  says 
he's  trying  dry  farming  this  spring.  There  ain't  a  liv 
ing  human  being,  except  a  few  Injuns,  between  there 
and  here.  Sabez?  And  they  ain't  a  brute  thing  but 
coyotes,  and  lizards  and  maybe  wild  burros,  and  so  they 
ain't  no  call  for  a  telephone." 

Roger  looked  at  the  group  of  buildings  across  the 
way.  "  Is  this  all  there  is  to  Archer's  Springs?  " 

"  Sure,  and  it's  a  pretty  good  little  old  town,  don't 
forget  it.  All  the  miners  in  the  range  south  of  here 
trade  here.  You'd  better  go  across  the  street  to  the 
Chinaman's  and  get  some  breakfast." 

Preble's  claim  lay  twenty-five  miles  northeast.  So 
did  the  government  land  where  the  Solar  plant  was  to 
be  built.  Roger  and  Ernest  discussed  the  matter  at 


THE  NEW  DAY  77 

breakfast  and  decided  to  carry  Felicia  along  with  them 
on  the  morrow  when  they  started  for  their  own  camp. 

"  And  think  how  surprised  Charley  will  be  when  you 
drop  in  on  her,  Felicia,"  suggested  Ernest. 

Felicia  blinked  back  the  tears  and  began  to  nibble 
her  breakfast. 

"  It's  a  darn  big  desert  and  a  darn  small  town,"  said 
Roger.  "  I  wonder  if  Austin  was  right  in  telling  us 
we  could  outfit  here.  Let's  ask  the  baggage  man." 

The  obliging  baggage  man  pointed  out  the  largest  of 
the  sheet-iron,  adobe  buildings  across  the  way.  "  Best 
trading  in  a  hundred  miles,"  he  said. 

With  Felicia  dancing  between  them,  the  two  made 
their  way  to  Hackett's  Supply  House.  The  exterior 
was  not  promising,  but  within  was  everything  the  des 
ert  dwellers  could  need.  Working  from  Austin's  list 
they  were  soon  supplied  with  tents,  working  outfit  and 
tent  boards.  Hackett,  a  stout,  slow-speaking  man, 
was  not  staggered  even  when  Roger  asked  him  to  de 
liver  the  goods. 

"  Expect  a  lot  of  freight  in  a  couple  of  weeks,  you 
say?  All  right,  I'll  send  you  up  with  a  team  and  when 
your  freight  comes  in  you  can  drive  it  back  again. 
You  can  board  the  horses  at  Treble's." 

Their  purchases  were  complete  by  noon,  but  Hackett 
would  not  let  them  start  until  morning.  "  No  use," 
he  said,  "  for  tenderfeet  to  try  camping  on  a  short  trip 
and  it  would  be  hard  on  the  little  girl.  Get  a  dawn 
start  and  make  the  trip  in  one  shift." 

So  they  whiled  away  the  afternoon  by  a  tramp  over 
the  desert,  and  after  supper  turned  Felicia  over  to  the 
landlady  at  Delmonico's,  the  adobe  hotel,  which  was 
clean  if  it  was  meager.  They  were  sitting  in  the  office, 


78  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

which  boasted  a  rusty  sheet-iron  stove,  a  desk,  and  a 
hanging  lamp,  when  a  thin,  middle-aged  man  came 
slowly  in  the  door  and  walked  hesitatingly  up  to 
Ernest. 

"  My  name  is  Schmidt,"  he  said.  "  I  saw  you  at 
supper.  Mr.  Werner,  he  wrote  me  you  vas  coming 
and  asked  me  to  do  vat  I  could  for  you." 

Ernest  and  Roger  shook  hands  delightedly. 

"  I  come  here  for  my  health,"  Schmidt  went  on, 
"  and  maybe  I  help  you.  I  vork  for  my  board." 

:<  We'll  see  how  things  are  after  we  get  settled,"  said 
Roger,  carefully.  "  Have  a  cigar  and  tell  me  how  you 
came  to  know  Mr.  Werner." 

"  I  clerked  by  a  bank  he  vas  interested  in,"  replied 
Schmidt,  settling  himself  with  the  cigar.  Roger  and 
Ernest  liked  him  at  once,  from  his  stiff  brown  pompa 
dour  and  kindly  blue  eyes  behind  his  spectacles  to  his 
strong,  capable  looking  hands.  Before  they  parted  for 
the  night  it  was  agreed  that  Schmidt  would  come  back 
with  them  when  they  came  in  for  the  freight.  Austin 
had  warned  them  that  help  was  almost  impossible  to 
get  in  the  desert  and  this  seemed  a  wise  thing  to  do. 

The  sun  had  not  risen  the  next  morning  when  the 
three  climbed  aboard  the  heavily  laden  wagon  and 
started  along  the  trail  Hackett  had  carefully  described 
for  them. 

It  was  not  a  smooth  trail.  Even  the  first  eight  or 
ten  miles,  mentioned  with  pride  by  the  baggage  man, 
were  cut  with  draws  and  strewed  with  heavy  rocks. 
But  the  air  was  like  a  northern  May.  The  cactus  was 
full  of  singing  northern  birds  preparing  for  their 
spring  migration.  The  horses  plodded  steadily  with 
out  urging.  The  mountains  lifted  in  colors  ever  more 


THE  NEW  DAY  79 

marvelous  and  the  Adventure  seemed  to  Roger  satis 
factory  beyond  expression. 

"  I  think  it's  beautiful,  Era,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  Gad,  I  don't,"  replied  Ernest,  wiping  sand  out  of 
his  eyes. 

"  I  do !  "  cried  Felicia,  jouncing  up  and  down  on  the 
wagon  seat  between  the  men.  She  was  powdered 
white  with  sand.  "  Charley  will  c'lapse  when  she  sees 
me." 

The  horses  were  used  to  desert  going.  The  tender 
foot  drivers  let  them  have  their  own  way.  Hackett 
had  tried  to  describe  certain  landmarks  along  the  route 
so  that  they  could  gauge  the  distance  covered,  but  with 
small  effect  on  Ernest  and  Roger.  All  points  of  the 
desert  looked  alike  to  them.  They  only  knew  that  if 
they  followed  the  trail  north  long  enough,  they  would 
strike  Trebles'  late  that  night. 

Just  at  sundown,  however,  Roger  pulled  in  the 
horses.  "  That  trail's  getting  awfully  faint,"  he  said. 

"  Sand's  drifted  like  snow  across  it,"  agreed  Ernest. 
"  In  fact,  there  hasn't  been  any  trail  for  the  last  mile. 
But  we  can't  miss  our  way.  That  white  peak  with 
three  points  is  at  right  angles  anyhow  to  us,  as  it  ought 
to  be." 

Roger  started  the  horses  on,  but  after  a  short  time 
stopped  again. 

"  I'm  not  going  on  till  we  locate  the  trail,"  he  an 
nounced. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  Not  stay  here  all 
night,"  protested  Ernest. 

"  You  bet  I  am.  Ernest,  we're  off  the  track  right 
now.  We  won't  be  able  to  find  the  trail  until  day 
light." 


8o  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Ernest's  obstinate  chin  set.     "  I'm  for  going  on." 

Roger  flushed  in  the  fading  light.  "  I'm  the  leader 
of  this  expedition  and  I  say  stop/' 

"  Pshaw !  I  didn't  think  you  were  so  timid,  Roger/' 
exclaimed  Ernest.  "  I'll  go  on  foot  and  find  the  trail." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Ernest,"  cried  Roger. 

But  if  a  quick  temper  was  Roger's  besetting  sin,  pig- 
headedness  was  Ernest's.  He  jumped  down  from  the 
wagon  and  disappeared  into  the  dusk. 

Felicia  and  Roger  waited  for  a  time  patiently.  Then 
Roger  shouted,  half  a  dozen  times,  "  Ernest !  "  There 
was  no  answer. 

"  Darn  chump !  "  muttered  Roger.  "  Come  on,  Fe 
licia,  let's  make  a  fire  of  grease  wood  so  he  can  find  us." 

They  built  the  fire  and  an  hour  passed,  then  two,  but 
Ernest  did  not  appear. 


CHAPTER  IV 

CHARLEY 

FELICIA  soon  grew  weary  of  the  game  of  fire  build 
ing  and  begged  off.  Roger,  with  the  aid  of  the  ax, 
gathered  a  huge  pile  of  grease  wood,  then  with  Felicia 
beside  him,  wrapped  in  a  blanket,  he  sat  down  before 
the  fire  to  wait. 

The  child,  her  deep  eyes  glowing  like  black  rubies  in 
the  flickering  light,  the  lovely  curves  of  her  mouth 
drooping,  leaned  against  Roger's  shoulder,  for  a  little 
while,  then  she  turned  and  looked  up  into  his  face  for 
a  long  minute.  Roger  returned  the  look,  a  little  won- 
deringly.  Felicia's  attractiveness  still  puzzled  him. 

"  I  love  you  very  much/'  she  said,  "  more  than  I  do 
Ernest." 

Roger  smiled  down  at  her.  "  But  you  must  love 
our  old  Ernest  too,  even  if  he  has  deserted  us." 

"  Oh,  I  do  love  him,  but  it's  you  I  think  about,  last 
thing  at  night !  " 

Felicia  gazed  up  at  Roger  with  a  look  of  such  mys 
terious  depth  that  he  caught  his  breath.  Felicia  sud 
denly  shivered. 

"  The  desert's  awful  big !  Oh,  why  do  you  suppose 
Charley  didn't  meet  me  ?  I  want  Charley,"  with  a  sob. 

Roger  jumped  to  his  feet  and  brought  another 
blanket  from  the  wagon.  He  spread  it  before  the  fire 
and  urged  Felicia  to  lie  down  on  it.  This  she  was 
persuaded  to  do  only  after  Roger  loaned  his  lap  for  a 

81 


82  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

pillow  and  she  finally  fell  asleep,  her  head  on  his  knee, 
his  hand  clasped  against  her  cheek. 

Another  hour  slipped  by.  Cramped  and  cold,  Roger 
tossed  an  occasional  branch  in  the  fire  with  his  free 
hand  and  speculated  with  uneasiness  for  Ernest,  as  to 
the  nature  of  the  faint  sounds  that  came  from  the  east 
ward.  He  decided  that  coyotes  must  be  in  the  vicinity 
and  he  drew  the  blanket  close  over  Felicia's  shoulders. 
He  was  strangely  unlonely.  The  desert  silence  and 
space  about  him,  the  low-lying  stars,  the  faint  cloud  of 
mountain  range  were  not  alien  to  him.  They  all  were 
the  setting  for  the  work  toward  which  his  whole  life 
had  moved.  He  knew  too  little  of  the  desert  really  to 
be  fearful  for  Ernest,  whose  return  he  expected  any 
moment. 

He  dozed  a  little.  A  sudden  sound  of  hoof-beats 
roused  him.  A  man  jumped  from  his  horse  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  fire.  He  was  a  stocky  fellow, 
wearing  blue  overalls  and  a  red  sweater.  Before  he 
had  given  Roger  more  than  a  quick  "  Hello !  "  another 
horse  came  up  and  a  woman  alighted.  Roger  laid 
Felicia's  head  on  the  blanket  and  clambered  stiffly  to 
his  feet.  The  young  woman  gave  Roger  a  quick 
glance,  then  ran  toward  the  sleeping  child. 

"Felicia!  Baby  Felicia!"  she  cried.  "Did  you 
think  Charley  had  deserted  you?  " 

Felicia  sat  up  with  a  jerk.  "Charley!"  she 
screamed.  "  Charley !  I  knew  you'd  come !  " 

"  Hello,  Roger  Moore !  "  exclaimed  the  stocky  young 
man.  "  Are  you  the  same  young  plutocrat  who  used 
to  own  a  swimming  pool  ?  " 

Roger  laughed.  "  The  same,  except  that  I'm  no 
longer  a  plutocrat.  How  did  you  recognize  me?  " 


CHARLEY  83 

"  Oh,  we  met  Ernest  Wolf  meandering  about  the 
desert.  Hello,  baby,  do  you  remember  brother?  "  kiss 
ing  Felicia,  who  was  in  Charley's  arms. 

Charley  was  tall,  nearly  as  tall  as  Roger,  and  he  no 
ticed  as  he  turned  to  shake  hands  with  her  that  she  held 
the  child  easily,  as  if  she  were  very  strong.  Then  he 
was  looking  into  eyes  that  suddenly  seemed  deeply 
familiar. 

"  I  don't  remember  much  except  the  pool,"  said 
Charley.  "  How  are  we  going  to  thank  you  for  taking 
care  of  Felicia?  " 

"  I  don't  know  how  we  are  going  to  thank  Felicia," 
Roger  replied.  "  Where  is  Ernest  ?  " 

Preble  laughed.  "  He  was  pegging  for  all  he  was 
worth  in  the  wrong  direction.  We  had  some  trouble 
to  persuade  him  that  he  was  wrong." 

"  That's  Ernest,  sure  enough !  "  exclaimed  Roger. 

Preble  went  on  more  soberly.  "  It  really  isn't  a 
laughing  matter  though,  a  tenderfoot  astray  in  this 
country.  I  tried  to  impress  that  upon  him.  It  just 
happened  that  Charley  and  I  were  out  looking  for  our 
pet  cow  and  we  ran  on  Wolf  about  five  miles  north  of 
here,  heading  west  and  going  strong.  He  had  picked 
up  a  wagon  trail  I  made  last  week  going  for  adobe." 

"  Where  is  he  now?  "  asked  Roger. 

"  Oh,  we  left  him  herding  the  cow.  We'll  pick  him 
up  on  the  way  back.  Let's  get  started.  Lord,  but 
you've  grown,  Felicia!  Come  here  and  let  me  look 
at  you." 

Big  brother  and  little  sister  loked  at  each  other  at 
tentively  in  the  firelight  Dick  Preble  was  still  red 
headed  and  freckled,  with  only  a  vague  resemblance  to 
his  sisters. 


84  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Four  years  since  we  left  you,  little  Felicia.  Char 
ley,  she  looks  just  as  you  did  at  her  age,  only  not  so 
tall.  I  don't  see  how  Aunt  Mary  could  have  been 
such  a  fool  as  to  have  sent  her  a  week  ahead  of  time." 

"  Aunt  Mary  never  managed  anything  correctly  in 
her  life,  bless  her  heart/'  replied  the  older  sister. 
"  Help  hitch  up,  Dicky.  We're  only  five  miles  from 
home,  Mr.  Moore." 

They  were  ready  for  the  trail  in  a  few  minutes. 
Felicia  delayed  the  start  by  refusing  to  be  separated 
from  Charley  and  finally  Charley's  horse  was  hitched 
to  the  tailboard  of  the  wagon  and  Charley  mounted  the 
high  wagon  seat.  Felicia,  established  between  Roger 
and  her  sister,  was  in  a  state  of  great  excitement  and 
at  first  monopolized  the  conversation.  But  after  a 
time,  she  quieted  down  and  by  the  time  they  overtook 
Ernest,  she  was  asleep,  her  head  against  Roger's  arm, 
her  hand  clasping  one  of  Charley's.  Nor  did  the  greet 
ings  waken  her. 

"Well,  Ern,  old  chap,  how's  the  North  Pole?" 
called  Roger. 

''  You  go  to  thunder !  "  replied  Ernest  with  a  laugh. 
He  tied  the  cow  in  the  place  of  Charley's  pony  and 
mounting  the  pony  rode  ahead  with  Preble. 

Roger  wanted  a  number  of  questions  answered. 
Where  had  the  Prebles  gone  after  leaving  Eagle's 
Wing  and  what  had  they  done  in  the  interim,  were  his 
opening  queries. 

"We  went  to  a  little  town,  near  St.  Louis,"  an 
swered  Charley,  "  and  Father  did  well.  Dick  and  I 
both  went  to  college.  What  in  the  world  are  you 
doing  out  here,  Mr.  Moore?  " 

"  For  heaven's  sake  don't  '  mister '  me,  old  friends 


CHARLEY  85* 

and  neighbors  as  we  are.     Why,  we  lived  on  your  old 
farm  till  Father  and  Mother  died !  " 

"  Did  you  indeed  ?  And  what  brought  you  out 
here?  Mining? " 

"  No,  some  experimenting  in  irrigating  for  the  gov 
ernment." 

"  Heaven  send  that  you're  successful !  "  exclaimed 
the  girl.  "  Dick  is  going  to  get  some  alfalfa  in  this 
winter,  and  I  know  that  our  well  won't  take  care  of  it. 
But  he  will  go  ahead." 

"  Felicia  is  startlingly  like  you,  as  a  child.  I  have 
just  one  picture  of  you  in  my  mind  — standing  on  the 
edge  of  the  pool,  ready  to  dive,  but  looking  around  at 
me  and  laughing.  Felicia  laughs  just  that  way/' 

"  Poor  baby,  coming  all  this  way  alone !  But  there 
seemed  nothing  else  to  be  done.  We  couldn't  afford  to 
go  back  for  her  nor  could  Aunt  Mary  come  on  with 
her." 

"  She  got  along  famously  and  made  friends  with 
every  one,"  said  Roger.  "  Jove,  isn't  it  wonderful, 
running  on  you  people  out  here !  " 

"  It's  going  to  be  wonderful  for  us,  I  know,"  re 
turned  Charley. 

The  wagon  rumbled  and  bumped,  and  then  Charley 
asked : 

"  Where  is  your  camp  to  be  ?  " 

"  We  don't  know,  except  we're  to  take  up  some  gov 
ernment  land  adjacent  to  yours.  But  your  name  isn't 
on  our  survey  map." 

"  No,  we  have  the  old  Ames  claim,"  replied  Char 
lotte.  "  You  must  plan  to  stay  with  us  until  your 
camp  is  set  up." 

"  You're  very  kind,"  said  Roger. 


86  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  It's  a  God-send  to  have  neighbors  coming  to  us," 
the  girl  went  on. 

Roger  made  no  reply  and  the  road  becoming  unbe 
lievably  rough,  Charley  gave  her  attention  to  holding 
Felicia  on  the  seat  and  nothing  more  was  said  until 
Preble  called  back, 

"  Careful  through  this  gate,  Moore !  Wait  till  I 
get  a  light." 

"  We're  home,"  said  Charley.  "  Wake  up,  Felicia 
dear." 

Dick  appeared  in  a  moment  with  a  lighted  candle 
stuck  within  and  on  the  side  of  an  empty  can.  It 
threw  a  long  finger  of  light  on  the  gate  posts  of  a 
corral. 

"  We  call  those  candle-lanterns,  '  lightning  bugs,' 
down  here,"  explained  Charley.  "  '  Bugs/  for  short." 

"  I  want  one  for  myself,"  exclaimed  Felicia,  sud 
denly.  "  Only  very  small,  so's  my  doll  can  use  it." 

"  You  shall  have  a  dozen  if  you  want  them,  baby !  " 
cried  Dick,  lifting  her  down  carefully  over  the  wagon 
wheel. 

The  men  unhitched  and  attended  to  the  horses,  then 
followed  a  short,  winding  trail  up  to  the  lighted  door 
way.  They  entered  a  long,  low  room,  with  adobe 
walls  a  muddy  yellowish  color.  The  floor  was  of 
rough  plank  with  a  single  Navajo  blanket  of  gray  and 
black  before  a  little  adobe  fireplace.  There  were  half 
a  dozen  camp  chairs  in  the  room,  a  couch  in  a  corner, 
covered  with  a  blue  Indian  rug,  a  homemade  table  in 
the  middle,  several  pelts  and  shelves  of  books  in  the 
walls  and  more  books  and  an  alarm  clock  on  the  mantel 
shelf.  It  was  a  crude  room,  but  one  felt  its  harmony 
of  tone  and  homelike  quality  at  once. 


CHARLEY  87 

"  Put  your  suit  cases  in  here,"  said  Dick,  leading  the 
way  through  an  open  door  into  a  candle-lighted  room. 
It  was  a  barren  little  place,  but  there  was  a  comfortable 
cot  on  either  side  of  the  room  and  a  packing  box  be 
tween  that  was  half  washstand,  half  bureau.  Charley 
appeared  in  the  door : 

"  Supper'll  be  ready  as  soon  as  the  kettle  boils,"  she 
announced.  "  Little  Felicia  is  in  bed  and  fast  asleep. 
Dick,  you'd  better  go  milk  that  poor  cow." 

Dick  started  off  obediently  and  Ernest  sat  down  on 
his  cot. 

"  I'll  wait  till  the  kettle  boils.  Gee,  I  walked  a  thou 
sand  miles.  Roger,  go  out  and  help  with  the  supper, 
you  lazy  brute." 

Charley  laughed.  "  There's  nothing  to  do  unless 
you  want  to  start  a  fire  in  the  fireplace." 

Roger  followed  her  to  the  kitchen,  where  she  pointed 
to  a  brimming  wood-box.  He  looked  with  interest  at 
the  immaculate  kitchen.  The  walls  were  whitewashed, 
the  floor  scoured  to-  a  silvery  purity,  the  stove  was 
shining. 

"  What  a  bully  camp  you  have !  "  he  exclaimed, 
pausing  with  his  arm  full  of  kindling  to  look  at  Char 
ley.  For  the  first  time,  as  she  stood  watching  the  tea 
kettle  writh  the  lamplight  full  upon  her,  he  got  a  clear 
view  of  his  hostess. 

She  was  slender  but  not  thin.  Her  shoulders  were 
broad  and  square  and  her  chest  was  deep  and  she  was 
slim-hipped  like  an  athletic  boy.  She  gave  Roger  a 
curious  impression  of  strength,  very  unusual  to  con 
nect  with  a  girl.  Yet  for  all  her  height  and  vigor,  she 
was  very  lovely.  Her  hair  was  darker  than  Felicia's, 
a  wiry,  burnished  bronze,  in  a  braided  mass  about  her 


88  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

head.  Her  face  was  long,  with  a  well-cut  short  nose 
and  an  oval  chin.  There  were  lovely  curves  in  her 
scarlet,  drooping  lips.  Her  eyes  were  large,  a  melting 
brown  that  was  almost  black.  It  was  the  child  Fe 
licia's  face,  but  with  a  depth  of  sweetness,  a  patience 
and  pride  in  lips  and  eyes,  acquired  by  what  difficulties 
of  living,  Roger  could  not  have  told,  even  had  he  had 
sufficient  understanding  of  women  to  have  noted  the 
existence  of  those  qualities.  He  did,  however,  see  her 
wonderful  resemblance  to  Felicia. 

"  You  are  like  Felicia,  grown  up,  all  of  a  sudden,"  he 
said.  "  It's  hard  to  rid  myself  of  that  illusion.  Er 
nest  and  I  have  had  a  bully  time  with  that  small  girl." 

"  I'm  so  glad  to  have  her  here  that  —  well,  when 
you  have  been  in  the  desert  longer,  you'll  realize  what 
human  beings  can  mean  to  each  other,"  said  Charley. 
"  There !  The  kettle's  boiling.  Fly  with  your  wood." 

Roger  flew.  Dick  came  in  with  the  milk  and  the 
four  sat  down  to  a  supper  of  baked  beans,  tea  and 
canned  apples.  It  was  a  pleasant  meal,  but  Roger  and 
Ernest,  weary  beyond  words,  were  delighted  when  it 
was  finished  and  they  could  tumble  into  bed. 

Roger  was  wakened  the  next  morning  by  the  alarm 
clock  in  the  dining  room.  Ernest  jumped  up  at  once 
and  Roger  lighted  the  candle. 

"  Six  o'clock,"  he  said.  "  Well,  our  new  job  has 
begun,  Ern." 

There  was  a  great  rattling  of  the  stove  lids  in  the 
kitchen,  above  Dick's  whistle,  then  through  the  win 
dows  a  light  dawning  toward  the  corral.  By  the  time 
that  Roger  and  Ernest  had  shaved  and  were  hurrying 
down  the  little  trail,  the  red  glow  in  the  east  had  made 
the  "  Bug  "  unnecessary.  All  the  horses  were  munch- 


CHARLEY  89 

ing  alfalfa  and  Dick  was  whistling  in  the  cowshed. 

The  two  men  stood  a  moment  at  the  corral  gate  and 
looked  about  them. 

The  house  faced  the  west.  It  had  been  carefully 
placed  on  a  broad  ledge  of  the  mountain,  a  few  feet 
above  the  desert  level,  yet  the  few  feet  were  enough  to 
give  a  complete  view  of  the  valley  that  swept  forty 
miles  to  the  west  into  the  range  that  held  the  Colorado 
within  bounds.  The  sandy  levels  of  the  desert  swept 
to  the  very  foot  of  the  mountain,  and  Dick  had  fenced 
in  about  twenty-five  acres.  It  was  not  yet  under  culti 
vation,  but  a  scraper  half-filled  with  sand  near  the 
corral  fence  testified  to  Dick's  intentions.  There  were 
practically  no  farm  buildings:  just  the  cow-shed,  with 
a  sheet-iron  roof  and  a  canvas  covered  shelter  in  a 
corner  of  the  corral.  Shed  and  corral  were  on  the 
desert  level  and  a  good  two  hundred  feet  from  the 
house.  As  they  stood  in  silence,  Dick  came  up  with 
his  pail  of  milk. 

"  Great  view,  isn't  it?  I'm  going  to  have  twenty- 
five  acres  of  alfalfa  here  by  June." 

"  I  thought  you  were  mining,"  said  Ernest. 

"  I  came  to  the  desert  to  dry-farm  but  I  got  side 
tracked  with  turquoise  mining  up  the  mountain  yon 
der.  Nothing  in  that,  but  alfalfa  is  thirty  dollars  a 
ton  and  we  get  five  crops  a  year." 

"  Which  way  does  the  government  land  lie?  "  asked 
Roger. 

Dick  grinned.  "  Look  in  any  direction !  You'll 
have  no  trouble  locating  yourselves.  Let's  go  in  to 
breakfast." 

Charley  and  Felicia  were  sitting  at  the  breakfast 
table  and  the  meal  was  quickly  eaten. 


90  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"What  do  you  two  do  first ?"  asked  Charley  as 
Ernest  finished  his  second  cup  of  coffee. 

"  Locate  the  camp  site  and  set  up  housekeeping,  so 
as  not  to  intrude  on  you  any  longer,"  replied  Ernest. 

"Shucks!  You  wouldn't  talk  that  way  if  you'd 
lived  here  a  few  years,"  exclaimed  Dick. 

"  You're  the  first  human  beings,"  remarked  Charley, 
"  except  Dick  and  a  few  Indians  and  old  Von  Minden 
that  I've  seen  in  six  months." 

"  But  don't  you  ever  go  to  town?  "  asked  Roger. 

"  Not  often.  It's  a  hard  trip  and  some  one  has  to 
stay  with  the  stock." 

Dick  looked  at  Charley  with  quick  reproach.  "  You 
know  it's  always  something  urgent  that  takes  me  in, 
Charley.  And  you  nearly  always  refuse  to  go." 

"  Nearly  always,  yes,  Dick,"  replied  Charley. 

Dick  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  there  was  a  mo 
ment's  silence  which  Ernest  broke. 

"  When  are  you  coming  to  see  us,  Felicia?  " 

"  Every  day,  Ernest,"  replied  the  child. 

"  Mr.  Ernest,"  corrected  Charley. 

"  No!     No!     We're  old  frkmds,"  protested  Ernest. 

"  And  Roger's  a  friend  too,"  added  Felicia.  "  A 
dearest  friend." 

Ernest  grinned.  "  Felicia !  How  can  you  forsake 
me  so!  Here's  Roger,  a  notorious  woman-hater,  and 
you  wasting  your  young  affections  on  him,  when  you 
might  have  me  with  a  turn  of  your  finger." 

"  You  shut  up,  Ernest !  "  exclaimed  Roger.  "  Don't 
pay  any  attention  to  him,  Felicia." 

"  I  won't,"  replied  the  child.  "  But  I'll  keep  right 
on  liking  him,  next  to  you." 

"  I  see  some  work  ahead  for  me !  "  ejaculated  Dick. 


CHARLEY  91 

Charley  refilled  Dick's  coffee  cup  and  smiled  at 
him. 

"  I'll  bet  on  you,  Dicky/'  she  said.  "  We'll  have 
supper  at  six,  Roger.  I've  put  up  a  lunch  for  you  two 
men." 

"  By  Jove,"  said  Ernest,  "  we'll  have  to  supply  water 
to  this  ranch  for  nothing,  Rog." 

"  Right!  "  answered  Roger,  rising.  "  Come  ahead, 
old  man." 

It  was  not  yet  eight  when  they  drove  out  of  the  cor 
ral,  along  the  line  of  fence  that  edged  Dick's  prospec 
tive  alfalfa  field.  There  was  a  monument,  Dick  said, 
at  the  southwest  corner  of  the  field  that  would  start 
them  on  their  way.  Neither  man  spoke  for  some  time, 
then  Ernest  remarked  in  his  gentle  voice : 

"  Extraordinarily  lovely  girl !  " 

Roger  grunted. 

Ernest  flushed.  "  Honestly,  Roger,  you  are  the 
limit !  She's  too  fine  a  woman  to  be  turned  off  with  a 
grunt." 

"Who's  turning  her  off?"  demanded  Roger.  "I 
don't  see  why  you're  always  accusing  me  of  hating 
women.  I  don't  hate  'em.  I'm  keen  about  them  and 
you  know  how  I  ran  after  them  until  I  had  to  cut  them 
out  and  attend  to  business.  But  now,  my  scheme  of 
life  can't  include  them.  You  waste  enough  time  and 
thought  every  year  on  petticoats  to  have  made  you 
president  of  the  university.  Now,  I'm  trying  to  con 
centrate  on  one  thing,  solar  heat.  It's  a  full  job  for 
any  man,  that's  all.  If  you  want  to  get  up  a  case  on 
Charlotte  Preble,  go  to  it.  She's  too  big  for  my  taste, 
even  if  I  had  time  to  think  about  her." 

Ernest  groaned  and  once  more  silence  fell  until  he 


92  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

roused  himself  to  ask:  "  Would  that  be  a  monument 
yonder? " 

They  pulled  up  before  a  heap  of  stones,  the  marker 
of  a  mining  claim,  so  familiar  to  the  desert  dweller, 
and  spread  the  government  map  on  their  knees. 

"  Let's  see,"  said  Roger.  "  Here's  Treble's  claim, 
and  next  him,  west,  is  the  Hellish  claim,  and  beyond 
that,  still  west,  is  government  land.  Simple  enough  if 
the  sand  hasn't  drifted  on  their  monuments." 

It  was  not  difficult.  They  passed  the  Mellish  work 
ings,  a  great  hole  in  the  ground,  with  a  deserted  shack 
beside  the  windlass.  A  short  distance  on,  they  located 
his  monument  and  quickly  found  themselves  on  govern 
ment  land. 

"Well,"  sighed  Ernest,  "  it  certainly  is  God-for 
saken!" 

They  looked  about  them.  Far  to  the  west  lay  a 
jagged  line  of  blue  mountains,  against  a  blue  sky.  To 
the  east,  the  barren  tortured  peaks  of  Coyote  Range, 
brown  and  black  in  the  blazing  morning  sun,  so  near 
that  they  could  see  the  smoke  rising  from  Charley's 
kitchen  chimney,  so  far  that  the  adobe  looked  like  a 
doll  house  against  the  range.  Between  them  and  Coy 
ote  Range  lay  the  desert  valley,  a  rich  yellow,  thick 
dotted  with  fantastic  growths  of  cactus  and  cat's  claw. 

"  Lord,  I  think  it's  great ! "  Roger  drew  a  deep 
breath.  "  Let's  unload,  old  man." 

They  worked  without  stopping  except  for  lunch, 
until  five  o'clock.  With  ax  and  shovel  they  cleared 
away  cactus  and  drifts  of  sand  for  a  level  space  on 
which  to  set  up  their  living  tent.  Austin  had  given 
them  plans  for  this.  They  laid  a  rough  floor  and 
raised  around  this  a  four  foot  wainscoating.  They 


CHARLEY  93 

used  no  tent  pole,  but  stretched  their  canvas  on  a  frame 
of  two  by  fours,  above  the  wainscoating.  The  result 
was  a  pleasant  airy  compartment  with  headroom  even 
for  Roger.  They  had  not  finished  their  tent  when 
suppertime  arrived.  But  they  took  Dick's  word  that 
tools  and  supplies  would  be  unmolested. 

"  We  may  have  trouble  locating  water/'  said  Ernest 
as  they  started  the  team  homeward.  "  Austin  thought 
we'd  strike  it  most  anywhere  in  the  valley,  you  remem 
ber,  but  Dick  says  Mellish  never  reached  it." 

"  I'll  bet  we  find  water  if  we  go  deep  enough." 
Roger  lighted  his  pipe  with  the  sense  of  comfort  of  a 
man  whose  back  is  aching  from  honest  toil.  "  Dick's 
information  is  only  hearsay.  He's  got  a  good  spring 
there  at  the  corral  and  he  told  me  there  was  consider 
able  water  in  the  lower  workings  of  the  old  mine  up  in 
the  range.  We'll  dig  till  we  reach  water  if  we  have  to 
tap  Hades.  And  the  Lord  send  that  we  don't  have  to 
waste  much  time  on  a  detail  like  that !  " 

"  Right-O !  Those  must  be  buzzards  circling  to 
ward  the  mountains.  Rog,  what  do  you  suppose  the 
folks  at  home  are  doing  about  now  ?  " 

"  Thinking  about  us.  It's  pretty  early  to  be  home 
sick,  old  boy." 

Ernest  smiled  in  his  gentle  way.  His  eyes  looked 
bluer  than  ever  in  his  parboiled  face.  "  Don't  worry 
about  me,  old  man.  I'm  not  getting  cold  feet,  only 
your  folks  were  pioneers  and  mine  were  not.  We 
Germans  are  gregarious." 

"  Shucks !  "  replied  Roger.  "  Some  of  the  best  pio 
neers  in  this  country  were  Germans.  And  you  aren't 
German,  anyhow.  You're  an  American.  Buck  up, 
Ernest!" 


94  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  I  will !  See  what's  coming !  "  Ernest  pointed 
with  a  laugh  to  a  tiny  figure  flying  toward  them  along 
the  trail. 

"  I  came  further  than  I  dared  to  come !  "  screamed 
Felicia,  "  but  you  were  so  slow.  And  Charley's  got  a 
great  big  supper  for  you.  Dicky  shot  some  quail. 
And  oh,  I've  missed  you  both  so !  "  This  last  as  she 
climbed  up  on  the  wheel  and  Ernest  lifted  her  to  the 
seat. 

"  Now,  everything's  all  right,"  said  Ernest. 

Eight  o'clock  the  next  morning  found  Roger  and 
Ernest  finishing  the  living  tent.  By  noon  the  kitchen 
tent,  which  really  was  a  fly  resting  on  four  poles,  was 
up,  and  the  gasoline  stove  installed.  It  required  the 
remainder  of  the  day  to  knock  together  a  rough  table, 
two  long  benches  and  to  prepare  supper.  And  at  eight 
o'clock  that  night  both  men  were  glad  to  go  to  bed. 

The  next  day  they  began  work  on  the  well.  The 
ultimate  success  of  the  plant  rested  on  the  premise  that 
not  too  far  below  the  surface  of  the  valley  there  was 
water.  Dick  was  pessimistic  on  the  subject.  He  came 
down  one  evening  to  view  progress  when,  after  three 
days  of  toil,  the  boys  had  dug  to  the  depth  of  about 
ten  feet.  The  three  men  lighted  their  pipes  and 
squatted  in  the  sand  by  the  well  hole. 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  don't  establish  your  plant  up 
in  the  range  and  use  your  power  for  mining,"  said 
Dick.  "  You'll  never  strike  water  here." 

"  Unless  we  can  develop  irrigation  plants,  the  idea 
would  be  just  a  toy  here,"  replied  Roger.  "  There's 
bound  to  be  water  here,  if  we  go  deep  enough.  You 
tell  me  the  lower  levels  of  the  mines  up  in  the  ranges 
on  both  sides  are  wet." 


CHARLEY  95 

"  Yes,  they  are,"  agreed  Dick.  "  Why  don't  you 
fellows  get  an  Indian  to  help  you  on  this  kind  of 
work?" 

"Where  would  we  get  one?"  asked  Ernest  doubt 
fully. 

"  Oh,  one  is  liable  to  mooch  along  the  desert  any 
time." 

"  Are  they  good  workmen  ?  "  Roger's  voice  was 
absentminded  as  he  scowled  at  the  well. 

"  Some  of  them  are  wonders,  but  they  are  no  good, 
unless  you  get  a  bunch  of  them  under  a  chief.  Then 
they're  O.  K." 

Roger  groaned.  Ernest  laughed.  "  Remember, 
Rog,"  he  said,  "  what  Austin  told  us  about  the  unex 
pected  problems  in  the  building  of  a  desert  plant." 

"  You'll  get  plenty  of  those,"  agreed  Dick.  "  Well, 
I'll  be  going  back.  If  I  see  an  Indian,  I'll  send  him  to 
you.  In  the  meantime,  remember  that  I'm  your  first 
purchaser  of  water,  though  my  well's  a  regular  gusher 
and  will  take  care  of  more  than  the  twenty-five  acres 
I  can  get  in  this  winter." 

"  Don't  be  so  sure,"  Roger  chuckled.  "  You  may 
come  and  apologize  to  our  well  and  ask  for  a  drink 
yet." 

Dick  joined  in  the  laugh  at  this  suggestion  and 
started  homeward  and  the  two  Sun  Planters  went  to 
bed. 

As  if  the  desert  were  determined  to  show  them  early 
in  the  game  a  fair  sample  of  its  lesser  annoyances, 
when  Ernest  entered  the  cook  tent  the  next  morning  he 
found  it  fairly  wrecked.  All  the  canned  goods  had 
been  rolled  off  the  shelves  and  the  labels  had  disap 
peared.  Flour,  sugar,  crackers  were  knocked  about  in 


96  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

the  sand.  Ernest  roared  for  Roger,  who  came  on  a 
run. 

"  Looks  as  if  a  burro  had  been  here  from  the  tracks," 
exclaimed  Roger. 

"  Two  or  three  burros,  I  should  judge,"  said  Ernest. 
"  Why,  Rog,  the  beggars  have  eaten  all  the  can  labels ! 
We'll  never  know  whether  we're  opening  tomatoes  or 
beans.  That  flour's  useless,  and  so's  the  sugar.  Look 
at  the  coffee!  I  told  you  not  to  leave  it  in  a  sack. 
Oh,  hang  it  all !  What  a  country !  " 

"  Let's  see  where  the  little  devils  went."  Roger 
started  out  of  the  tent.  The  small  hoof  tracks  were 
not  difficult  to  find.  Beyond  the  confines  of  the  camp, 
the  sand  lay  like  untracked  snow.  When  they  picked 
up  the  trail,  it  led  directly  to  the  Coyote  Range. 

Ernest  suddenly  spoke  cheerfully.  "  We'll  have  to 
go  up  and  ask  Charley  for  some  breakfast.  It's  an  ill 
wind  that  blows  nobody  any  good !  " 

"  We'll  have  to  shave  if  we're  going  up  there  and 
that  takes  time,"  protested  Roger. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  eat  ?  No  sugar,  no  flour, 
no  coffee !  " 

"  Let's  be  quick  about  it,  then,"  said  Roger,  hurry 
ing  into  the  living  tent. 

The  Prebles  laughed,  but  they  were  very  sympathetic 
and  blamed  themselves  for  not  warning  the  boys  that 
stray  burros  and  coyotes  were  a  menace  to  any  stores 
left  unprotected. 

"  String  some  wire  about  six  inches  apart  around 
your  four  poles  and  weave  yucca  stalks  in  and  out.  It 
makes  a  bully  cool  wall  and  keeps  the  varmints  out," 
said  Dick. 


CHARLEY  97 

"  My  heavens,  man !  I  haven't  time  to  do  raffia 
work/'  cried  Roger,  half  laughing,  half  serious. 

"  I'll  do  it  for  you,"  said  Felicia.  "  I  can  weave  like 
I  did  in  school.  And  if  I  do  that,  Charley  won't  make 
me  have  lessons  with  her  every  day." 

"  Oh,  won't  I !  "  returned  Charley.  "  Roger,  you 
get  the  wires  up.  That  won't  take  but  a  few  minutes 
and  when  old  Fanny  Squaw  comes  along  in  a  week  or 
so  to  sell  ollas  I'll  send  her  down  to  cut  and  weave 
yucca  for  you.  It  can't  cost  you  more  than  four  bits. 
In  the  meantime,  I  can  let  you  have  some  supplies  to 
tide  you  over  till  some  one  goes  to  town." 

"  You  see  what  it  means  to  have  brains  in  the  fam 
ily,"  said  Dick. 

"  It's  lucky  some  one  in  this  bunch  possesses  them," 
laughed  Roger.  "  By  the  way,  how  do  there  come  to 
be  stray  burros  in  the  mountains?  " 

"  Miners  die  or  desert  them  and  they  go  wild,"  re 
plied  Dick.  "  I  must  try  to  catch  and  tame  one  for 
Felicia,  after  the  alfalfa  is  in.  Which  reminds  me  that 
I  must  get  on  the  job.  I've  got  your  barrel  of  water 
ready  in  the  wagon,  so  come  along." 

The  start  was  late  that  day  and  they  had  not  gone 
down  a  foot  when  they  struck  rock.  Another  trip  had 
to  be  made  to  the  Prebles  to  procure  some  sticks  of 
dynamite  from  Dick's  little  store  at  the  neglected  tur 
quoise  mine.  And  still  no  sign  of  water. 

The  evenings  were  lonely.  At  first  the  two  went 
frequently  to  the  ranch  house,  as  Dick,  sweating  in  his 
barren  alfalfa  fields,  insisted  that  the  house  be  called. 
But  everybody  was  too  tired  for  social  effort.  Dick 
was  grading  and  plowing  all  day  long  and  Charley, 


98  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

after  her  housework  was  finished,  often  drove  for  him 
in  the  field.  The  mid-day  heat  and  the  unwonted 
labor  made  Ernest  and  Roger  glad  to  go  to  bed  early. 
After  they  had  eaten  supper  and  cleared  up  the  dishes, 
they  would  build  a  little  fire  in  the  sand  outside  the  liv 
ing  tent  and  for  an  hour  sit  before  it.  Even  on  chilly 
evenings  the  fire  had  to  be  small,  for  the  firewood  was 
bought  from  Dick's  none  too  great  supply.  He  in 
turn  bought  from  an  Indian  who  cut  mesquite  far  up 
in  the  ranges  and  toted  it  by  burro  pack  to  the  corral. 
Ernest,  sitting  thus,  would  pluck  at  his  banjo  and 
sing  to  the  stars,  finding  ease  thus  for  his  homesick 
heart.  Roger  sat  in  silent  contemplation,  now  of  the 
fire,  now  of  the  stars.  In  spite  of  his  impatience  over 
petty  details,  he  was  happier  than  he  had  been  since  his 
undergraduate  days.  The  marvelous  low-lying  stars, 
the  little  glow  of  fire  on  Ernest's  pleasant  face,  the 
sweet  tenor  voice  and  the  mellow  plunking  of  the 
banjo  were  a  wonderful  background  for  his  happy 
dreams.  Roger  still  believed  that  a  man's  work  could 
fill  every  desire  of  his  mind  and  soul. 

"  I  have  so  loved  thee," 
(sang  Ernest  one  evening), 

"  But  cannot,  cannot  hold  thee. 
Fading  like  a  dream  the  shadows  fold  thee, 
Slowly  thy  perfect  beauty   fades   away, 
Good-by,  sweet  day !     Good-by,  sweet  day !  " 

There  was  the  soft  thud  of  a  footstep  in  the  sand  and 
an  Indian  appeared  in  the  soft  glow  of  the  fire.  Er 
nest  broke  off  his  song,  abruptly.  The  newcomer  was 
of  indeterminate  age,  with  black  hair  falling  nearly  to 


CHARLEY  99 

his  waist  over  a  bright  red  flannel  shirt.  He  wore 
black  trousers  girdled  at  the  waist  by  a  broad  twist  of 
blue  silk.  His  feet  were  bare. 

"  How !  "  he  said,  nodding  and  smiling.  "  I  hear 
music  way  out.  Come  see  maybe  white  medicine 
man." 

"  Good  evening,"  returned  Ernest.  "  Sit  down  by 
the  fire." 

"  How'd  you  like  a  job  ?  "  asked  Roger.  "  Did  Mr. 
Preble  send  you  ?  " 

"  No  job !  "     The  Indian  shook  his  head.     "  Sick !  " 

"  Is  that  so  ? "  Roger's  voice  was  sympathetic. 
"  "M.y  friend's  a  good  medicine  man.  Where  are  you 
sick?" 

"  In  my  tooth !  "  The  visitor  opened  a  capacious 
mouth,  displaying  a  badly  ulcerated  gum. 

"  That's  easy !  Get  the  peroxide  bottle  and  a  tea 
spoon,  Ern.  We'll  fix  him  up,  poor  duck.  What's 
your  name,  old  man?  " 

"  Qni-tha,"  replied  the  Indian. 

"  All  right,  Qui-tha.  Now  you  take  a  teaspoonful 
of  this  and  hold  it  in  the  front  of  your  mouth,  see! " 

Qui-tha  looked  closely  into  the  faces  of  the  two  men, 
then  with  touching  docility  he  did  as  Roger  bade  him. 
In  a  moment  he  was  blowing  foam  violently  into  the 
fire.  The  two  men  looked  at  each  other  a  little  aghast. 

"  You  should  have  held  it  in  your  mouth,  Qui-tha !  " 
cried  Ernest. 

The  Indian  reached  for  the  teaspoon  and  poured 
himself  another  dose.  This  he  held  in  his  mouth  for 
a  moment,  gazing  at  his  physicians  solemnly  the  while. 
Then  he  again  blew  foam  into  the  fire. 

"  Heap  strong  medicine,"  he  said.     "  Fine,  strong 


ioo  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

medicine.  Never  saw  such  strong  medicine.  You 
good  medicine  men.  Qui-tha  stay  work  for  you. 
You  let  keep  bottle." 

"  Sure,"  replied  Ernest,  "  only  be  very  careful  -of  it. 
Don't  use  it  up  too  fast." 

Qui-tha  nodded.  "  You  give  blanket.  Qui-tha 
sleep  here  by  fire." 

And  sleep  he  did,  rolled  up  even  as  to  his  head,  his 
feet  to  the  dying  embers,  while  his  hosts,  undressing  by 
candle  light,  grinned  at  each  other  in  silent  amuse 
ment.  When  Dick  came  down  with  the  tri-weekly  bar 
rel  of  water  he  was  astonished  to  see  Qui-tha  slowly 
weaving  yucca  stalks  into  the  wire  that  now  bound  the 
poles  of  the  cook  tent. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  Qui-tha,  you  old  bum,  you've 
always  refused  to  work  for  me!  "  he  shouted. 

The  Indian  grinned,  then  explained  very  seriously. 
"  These  white  men  heap  smart.  Make  strong  medi 
cine.  Qui-tha  work  one  week,  pay  white  medicine 
men." 

Ernest  called  Dick  into  the  living  tent  and  made  him 
an  explanation  while  Qui-tha  looked  inquiringly  at 
Roger  at  the  sound  of  Dick's  laughter. 

"  Do,  for  the  love  of  all  of  us,  keep  feeding  him 
peroxide  until  he's  cajoled  into  giving  me  a  hand  in  the 
field.  Won't  Charley  be  amused  by  this  ?  " 

But  Qui-tha  was  not  to  be  cajoled.  He  prolonged 
his  promised  week  to  two,  but  would  serve  only  his 
two  medicine  men.  He  was  a  most  erratic  workman, 
but  what  he  did,  he  did  exceedingly  well.  The  cook 
tent  with  its  woven  sides  of  faded  green  was  a  struc 
ture  of  real  beauty.  Qui-tha  consumed  a  week  in  the 
doing  of  this  job,  and  ate  all  of  three  dozen  cans  of 


CHARLEY  101 

tomatoes,  for  which  he  displayed  what  Ernest  called 
an  abandoned  passion.  After  he  had  finished  with 
the  cook  tent,  he  sat  for  a  day  at  the  edge  of  the  well, 
watching  the  two  white  men  at  their  back  breaking 
toil,  then  he  silently  undertook  to  man  the  bucket  hoist 
for  them.  At  frequent  intervals  he  would  refuse  to 
hoist  for  a  time  and  would  urge  Roger  and  Ernest  to 
rest  with  him. 

"  Why  work  all  time,  uh  ?  Wind  no  blow  all  time. 
Sun  no  shine  all  time.  You  no  dig  all  time,  uh?  Sit 
with  Qui-tha  and  smoke  and  think." 

"  He's  got  a  lot  of  horse  sense,  Roger,  after  all, 
hasn't  he?  "  said  Ernest  one  day  after  the  Indian  had 
laughed  at  them  for  their  mad  driving  at  the  waterless 
well. 

Roger  straightened  his  tired  back.  "  Fine,  for  an 
Indian!  I  like  to  hear  him  laugh.  On  things  that 
don't  demand  our  white  sophistication,  do  you  notice 
what  a  good  sense  of  humor  he  has?  " 

"  By  Jove,  I  wish  he'd  go  up  and  help  the  Prebles. 
I  think  it's  a  fright  for  Charley  to  be  working  in  the 
fields,"  exclaimed  Ernest. 

Roger  nodded.  "  Guess  I'll  try  him  on  that  angle." 
He  clambered  out  of  the  well  and  squatted  by  Qui-tha 
on  the  ever-increasing  pile  of  sand  and  stone  by  the 
well  edge. 

"  Do  you  see  that  white  girl  up  there  in  the  field, 
driving  the  horse?"  pointing  over  the  lifting  desert 
to  the  distant  figure,  difficult  to  see  now  as  the  sun 
sank. 

'  Yes,"  replied  the  Indian. 

"  Won't  you  go  up  and  help  so  the  girl  can  go  back 
to  the  house  and  do  a  woman's  work?  " 


102  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

The  Indian  puffed  thoughtfully  at  his  cigarette. 
"Why?  "he  asked,  finally. 

"  Because  they  need  help.     They'll  pay  you." 

"  Would  you  go  help  Indian  squaw  so  she  no  have 
do  hard  work  ?  "  queried  the  Indian. 

Roger  scratched  his  head. 

"  Charley  Preble,  she  heap  strong,  like  a  man. 
Work  no  hurt  her.  No  hurt  Injun  squaw.  Let  'em 
work." 

Roger  had  nothing  more  to  say.  But  the  fact  that 
Charley  worked  so  hard  bothered  both  men,  though 
Ernest,  with  his  unconsciously  German  attitude  to 
ward  women,  was  much  less  troubled  about  the  mat 
ter  than  Roger.  Roger,  for  all  his  neglect  of  the 
gentler  sex  for  the  past  few  years,  had  that  attitude 
toward  women,  half  of  tenderness,  half  of  good  fellow 
ship,  that  is  characteristic  of  the  best  American  men. 
And  although  he  laughed  at  Ernest's  sentimental  moon 
ing  about  Charley,  he  really  was  more  concerned  over 
the  girl's  hard  life  than  was  his  friend. 

She  was  still  to  him  Felicia,  grown  up,  and  Felicia 
was  still  the  little  Charley  Preble  of  the  swimming  pool. 
It  was  a  confusion  of  personalities  that  might  easily 
have  grown  into  romance  had  not  Roger  been  too  com 
pletely  and  honestly  preoccupied  with  his  work. 

The  next  afternoon  the  hoist  broke  and  leaving  Er 
nest  and  Qui-tha  to  patch  it  up,  Roger  plodded  up  to 
the  alfalfa  field. 

The  valley  sloped  very  gradually  from  the  moun 
tains.  Dick  was  working  with  a  scraper,  carefully 
throwing  line  after  line  of  the  shallowest  possible  ter 
races  at  right  angles  to  the  valley's  slope.  The  irrigat- 


CHARLEY  103 

ing  ditch  which  was  to  carry  the  water  that  was  to  flow 
gently  over  the  terraces  was  already  finished. 

Charley,  who  had  been  driving  the  horses  while 
Dick  handled  the  scraper,  sat  on  a  heap  of  stones  beside 
the  fence.  She  was  very  brown,  yet  in  spite  of  her 
rough  work  she  looked  well.  Her  khaki  blouse,  her 
short  skirt  and  high  laced  boots  were  smart  and  her 
broad  soft  hat,  though  covered  with  dust,  was  pictur 
esque  and  becoming.  Roger  dropped  on  the  rocks  be 
side  her,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Tired  ?"  asked  Charley.  "Aren't  you  off  duty 
early?" 

"  I  came  up  to  labor  with  you,"  replied  Roger,  his 
blue  eyes  very  clear  in  his  tanned  face.  "  You're 
working  too  hard." 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do  ?  Sit  on  the  front 
porch  and  watch  Dicky  work?  That's  not  my  idea  of 
a  pioneer's  mate." 

"  But  can  you  stand  it?  "  asked  Roger. 

"  It's  no  harder  than  golf  and  tennis  and  a  swim  all 
in  one  day.  I've  done  that  many  a  time.  And  I'm  as 
eager  as  Dick  is  to  reclaim  this  desert.  I'm  almost  if 
not  quite  as  interested  in  this  as  you  are  in  your  work." 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  intrude  or  criticize,"  began  Roger. 

'  You  didn't  do  either.  I  appreciate  your  interest, 
and  I'm  just  trying  to  make  you  see  that  the  pioneer 
women  aren't  all  dead  yet.  Some  day  there'll  be  pep 
per  trees  and  peach  trees  along  that  ditch,  and  for 
miles  and  miles  round  here,  the  green  of  alfalfa." 

"If  you  get  enough  water,"  murmured  Roger. 

"  If  we  get  enough  water,"  agreed  Charley. 

They  both  paused  and  looked  from  Dick,  sweating 


104  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

behind  the  horses,  to  the  unending  yellow  of  the  desert 
against  which  Dick  and  the  horses  looked  like  pygmies. 
Finally  Charley  said  with  a  sudden  chuckle, 

"  Roger,  one  thing  I  do  remember  is  your  spitfire 
rages  —  very  vaguely,  but  they  must  have  been  rather 
devastating  to  have  made  an  impression  on  my  baby 
mind." 

Roger's  smile  was  a  little  twisted.  "  Nice  thing  to 
remember  of  me.  Where  is  your  tact,  woman !  " 

"Mercy!  You  aren't  sensitive  about  it  after  all 
these  years  ?  I  thought  it  funny  that  your  baby  temper 
and  the  pool  were  all  I  could  rake  up  out  of  our  past." 

"  Where  is  Felicia  ?  "  asked  Roger,  abruptly. 

"  She  went  up  to  the  spring  to  fill  my  little  canteen 
with  water." 

"  Thank  heaven,"  said  Roger,  "  that  she  can't  rake 
up  my  past.  I'm  going  to  stroll  up  to  meet  her."  And 
he  doffed  his  hat  and  was  off,  feeling  that  somehow 
he  had  not  made  great  headway. 


CHAPTER  V 

VON    MINDEN 

THAT  evening,  after  the  little  fire  had  burned  to 
a  bed  of  coals,  Ernest  said :     "  About  time  for 
the  stuff  to  have  come  from  St.  Louis." 

"  I've  been  thinking  of  that,"  returned  Roger. 
"  And  we've  nearly  run  through  the  Trebles'  extra  sup 
plies.  Why  don't  you  go  in  to  Archer's  Springs  and 
bring  a  load  out.  Dick  is  planning  to  go  day  after 
to-morrow." 

"  Wouldn't  you  rather  go?  "  asked  Ernest. 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it." 

"  Thank  heaven ! "  exclaimed  Ernest.  "  I  was 
afraid  you'd  want  the  job,  and  even  Archer's  Springs 
would  look  good  to  me !  " 

Roger  laughed  and  slapped  Ernest  on  the  shoulder. 
"  You  homesick  Dutchman !  Crazy  for  the  mail,  aren't 
you?  There  must  be  something  there  from  Austin. 
I'm  glad  you  want  to  go,  for  I'd  hate  the  trip.  Let's 
turn  in !  " 

Wednesday  morning,  just  at  dawn,  Dick  and  Ernest, 
each  driving  a  team,  pulled  up  before  the  cook  tent 
where  Roger  and  Oui-tha  were  finishing  breakfast. 

"  Charley  says  you're  to  come  up  there  for  supper 
to-night,"  called  Dick.  "  Felicia  has  permission  to 
come  down  to  fetch  you  at  five  o'clock." 

105 


106  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  All  right,"  returned  Roger.  "  When  do  you  ex 
pect  to  be  back,  Dick?  " 

"  All  depends  on  luck.  Perhaps  not  before  Friday 
noon." 

"  Take  care  of  Ernest,"  called  Roger  as  the  two 
teams  started  on.  "  He's  flighty !  " 

"  Don't  get  drowned  in  that  fine  well  of  yours, 
Rog!  "  shouted  Ernest. 

Roger  lighted  his  pipe  and  helped  Qui-tha  clean 
the  plates  and  cups  with  sand  and  old  newspaper. 

"  Don't  know  how  we'll  do  dishes  when  the  news 
papers  give  out,  Quntha,"  he  said. 

"  Keep  burro.  He  clean  'em,"  suggested  Qui-tha, 
with  a  mischievous  grin. 

"  Wah!  Go  way!  We're  not  Hualapais  like  you," 
retorted  Roger. 

Qui-tha  laughed,  and  followed  Roger  to  the  well. 
The  chill  of  the  early  March  morning  was  beginning 
to  lift. 

Roger  pulled  off  his  coat,  preparatory  to  dropping 
down  into  the  well,  then  paused.  The  sun  was  just 
lifting  over  the  peaks.  The  ranch  house  was  in  black 
shadow.  No  man  with  Roger's  capacity  for  work 
could  be  lonely  with  that  work  at  hand.  No  man  with 
Roger's  fine  imagination  could  have  failed  to  have  felt 
his  pulses  quicken  at  the  sudden  conception  of  the 
desert's  wonders  that  flashed  before  his  mind  as  his 
outward  eye  took  in  the  sunrise.  He  saw  in  flashing 
panorama  the  desert's  magnificent  distances,  its  unbe 
lievable  richness  of  coloring,  its  burning  desert  noons, 
its  still  windswept  nights,  and  a  vague  waking  of  pas 
sions  he  never  had  known  stirred  within  his  self  and 
work-centered  soul. 


VON  MINDEN  107 

The  air  was  full  of  bird  song.  What  Ernest  called 
the  dawn's  enchantment  was  just  ending.  Blackbird 
and  robin,  oriole  and  mocking  bird,  piped  full-throated 
from  every  cactus.  To  Ernest  this  was  the  one  re 
deeming  touch  to  the  desert's  austerity.  To  Roger  it 
was  the  crowning  of  an  almost  unbearable  charm. 
The  sun  wheeled  in  full  glory  over  the  peaks.  The 
adobe  flashed  out  from  the  shadow  and  Roger  slid 
down  into  the  well. 

He  loaded  the  bucket  with  broken  rock  and  called 
to  Qui-tha  to  hoist  away.  To  his  surprise,  there  was 
no  response.  Roger  climbed  hurriedly  out,  calling  to 
the  Indian.  He  looked  in  the  cook  tent  and  the  living 
tent  and  then  his  eye  caught  Qui-tha's  tall  figure  al 
ready  diminished  by  distance,  moving  rapidly  west 
ward  toward  the  River  Range. 

"  By  Jove,"  he  exclaimed,  "  that's  cool !  I  wonder 
if  he  took  anything  with  him  but  the  peroxide  bottle  ?  " 

A  quick  inventory  showed  nothing  missing,  and  with 
a  sigh  Roger  returned  to  the  well. 

It  was  slow  work,  filling  the  bucket,  clambering  out 
to  hoist  it,  then  down  again.  But  at  noon,  when  the 
sun  shone  full  into  the  well,  Roger  noticed  a  sudden 
darkening  of  the  brown  rock  at  the  bottom.  He  seized 
a  pick  and  worked  rapidly.  Water!  Not  a  gushing 
spring,  but  a  steady  increase  of  moisture  that,  as  he 
dug  on,  became  a  trickle,  then  a  slowly  rising  pool 
about  his  ankles. 

No  discoverer  of  a  noble  river  ever  felt  prouder 
than  Roger  as,  after  he  had  hoisted  out  the  bucket  and 
tools,  he  stood  at  the  well's  edge  gazing  far  down  at 
the  dirty  pool. 

He  was  standing  so,  a  tall  figure,  his  face  streaked 


io8  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

with  dirt  and  sweat  but  with  satisfaction  radiating 
from  every  line  of  his  thin  tanned  face,  when, 
"  Hello !  "  called  a  man's  voice  behind  him. 

Roger  turned  with  a  jerk.  A  little  gray-headed  man 
and  a  little  gray  burro  were  standing  by  the  work  tent. 

"  Perhaps  I  could  get  something  to  eat  here,"  said 
the  stranger. 

"  Certainly,"  returned  Roger,  not  too  enthusias 
tically.  He  did  not  know  desert  hospitality,  excepting 
what  he  had  met  at  the  Preble  ranch.  The  man  turned 
promptly  to  the  burro. 

"  I'll  take  off  your  pack,  Peter,  if  you  see  to  it  that 
you  don't  stray." 

The  burro  looked  at  his  master  with  the  gaze  of  a 
wise  old  dog  and,  relieved  of  his  pack,  moved  slowly  to 
the  shade  of  the  living  tent.  Roger,  looking  his  guest 
over,  from  faded  overalls  and  blue  flannel  shirt  to  bat 
tered  sombrero,  led  the  way  into  the  cook  tent. 

"  Whew7 ! "  said  the  stranger.  "  Sun's  getting 
higher.  Noons  are  hot.  When  did  you  reach  these 
parts?" 

"  A  couple  of  weeks  ago.  My  name's  Moore, — 
Roger  Moore." 

The  man  nodded.  "  Mine's  Otto  von  Minden. 
I'm  an  engineer.  Been  in  the  desert  country  ten 
years." 

Roger  was  moving  about,  making  coffee  and  slicing 
bacon.  "What  are  you  doing,  prospecting?"  he 
asked. 

Von  Minden  jerked  a  quick  look  at  Roger  from  a 
pair  of  small  brown  eyes.  "  Yes,  I'm  prospecting. 
What  are  you  doing?  " 

"  Experimenting  with  solar  heat.     This  is  the  place 


VON  MINDEN  109. 

to  get  it  if  this  noon  is  a  promise  of  more  to  come." 

"  Heat !  "  cried  the  stranger  with  sudden  excitement. 
"Heat!  God!  What  I  have  known  of  heat.  Blis 
tering,  burning,  blinding!  Nights  when  the  very  star 
rays  scorch  and  the  moon's  a  caldron  of  white  lava. 
Ten  years  of  it,  Moore,  ten  years!  " 

Roger  looked  at  his  guest  with  interest.  '  You 
aren't  an  American?  There's  just  a  little  accent  in 
your  speech." 

"Me?  No.  I'm  German  born  and  bred.  What 
are  you  going  to  do  with  your  solar  heat  ?  " 

"  Harness  it,"  replied  Roger,  "  and  see  if  I  can  make 
it  work  for  me." 

"  There's  a  fool  born  every  minute,"  said  Von  Min- 
den. 

"  You're  quite  right,"  returned  Roger,  cheerfully. 

There  was  no  further  conversation  until  Roger  had 
put  the  coffee,  bacon  and  cold  biscuits  with  a  can  of 
pie-fruit  on  the  table.  Von  Minden  fell  to  voraciously. 
His  table  manners  were  very  bad,  his  hands  were  dirty 
but  there  was  something  about  him  that  interested 
Roger. 

"  I've  had  great  trouble  getting  water,"  he  said. 
"  Just  struck  it,  this  noon.  'Twill  be  enough  for  drink 
ing  and  my  condenser,  I  guess,  but  nothing  for  irriga 
tion." 

"  Can't  do  anything  with  a  dug  well,  here,"  grunted 
the  guest.  "  Better  drive  one." 

"  Is  the  sand  really  fertile  in  this  region  ?  "  asked 
Roger. 

"  Fertile?  Friend,  there's  an  empire  waiting  to  be 
born,  right  here,  if  only  they  can  get  water  and  fuel." 

"  If  we  can  get  the  fuel  we  can  pump  the  water,"" 


no  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

said  Roger.  "You're  right!  There  is  an  empire 
here.  Mineral  resources  beyond  the  dreams  of  avar 
ice,  four  or  five  crops  a  year  of  food-stuffs.  Why, 
man,  millions  of  people  could  come  in  here  and  be  self- 
sustaining." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  '  in  here  '  ?  "  Von  Minden 
spoke  sharply. 

Roger  hesitated.  "  I  mean  really  something  pretty 
big.  A  cheap  fuel  would  open  up  Arizona,  New  Mex 
ico,  Southern  California  and  Northern  old  Mexico  as 
no  one  can  conceive  who's  not  studied  the  subject. 
If  I  can  put  over  my  experiment,  I  shall  add  to  the 
potential  wealth  of  this  country  as  no  single  individual 
has  ever  done.  I'm  going  to  get  some  one's  ear  at 
Washington,  some  day,  if  it's  not  till  I'm  a  doddering 
old  man.  We  ought  to  have  Mexico,  you  know,  be 
cause  when  the  inland  empire  begins  to  grow,  we'll 
overflow  into  Mexico.  But  we  never  can  have  her,  of 
course.  We  can  only  hope  that  she'll  grow  into  a  real 
nation  we  can  neighbor  with,  like  Canada." 

"  Ah  hah !  And  how're  you  going  to  bring  about 
this  millennium  ?  "  asked  Von  Minden. 

But  Roger,  whose  outburst  to  a  stranger  had  been 
unprecedented,  had  nothing  more  to  say  on  the  subject. 

"  Will  your  burro  eat  table  scraps?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Yes,  especially  bacon  rinds.  Oh,  Peter,  come 
here,  liebchen !  "  he  called. 

There  was  a  sound  of  little  light  footfalls  in  the  sand 
and  Peter's  wise  gray  face  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"  Come  here,  sweetheart."  The  little  burro 
crowded  carefully  around  the  table  end  until  his  head 
rested  on  Von  Minden's  shoulder.  One  by  one,  the 
old  prospector  handed  up  the  bacon  rinds  and  biscuits 


VON  MINDEN  in 

to  him  and  Peter  chewed  sedately,  flopping  his  ears 
back  and  forth. 

"  You  are  a  good  little  boy.  Now  run  along  out," 
as  the  last  rind  disappeared  and  the  burro  trotted  se 
dately  out  to  browse  industriously  among  the  roots  of 
the  cactus. 

"  He  really  seems  to  understand,"  exclaimed  Roger 
delightedly. 

"  He  knows!  "  cried  Von  Minden.  "  And  now,  tell 
me  about  this  solar  heat.  How  are  you  going  to  har 
ness  it?" 

Roger  shook  his  head.  "  That  I  won't  tell  you  now. 
But  if  you'll  come  back  in  three  months'  time,  I'll  show 
you  the  plant." 

"  You're  afraid  of  me,  eh?  Well,  perhaps  that's  a 
good  idea.  Afraid  of  me!  Afraid  of  poor  old  Von 
Minden !  There  was  a  time  when  —  ach !  Well  — 
perhaps  you'll  let  me  have  a  nap  here  on  a  bench. 
Then  Peter  and  I'll  go  on  up  into  the  ranges." 

"  Make  yourself  at  home,"  replied  Roger. 

Von  Minden  stretched  his  short  length  on  the  bench 
and  closed  his  eyes.  Before  Roger  had  finished  the 
dishes  he  was  snoring.  The  little  burro  was  standing 
in  the  shade  of  the  living  tent  when  Roger  came  out  of 
the  cook  shelter.  He  looked  pathetically  small  and 
thin  and  Roger,  who  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to  him, 
brought  him  a  pail  of  water,  and  scratched  his  head  and 
talked  to  him  before  going  on  into  the  tent.  Here  he 
was  shortly  absorbed  in  sorting  his  blue  prints.  He 
was  studying  the  ground  plan  of  the  absorber,  when  an 
uncanny  sense  of  being  watched  made  him  look  over 
his  shoulder.  Von  Minden,  a  sawed-off  shot-gun 
aimed  at  Roger's  back,  was  standing  in  the  doorway. 


112  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  You  will  come  down  here  and  open  up  the  world's 
best  empire,  will  you  —  for  America,  eh  ?  Not  yet, 
my  friend!  "  Von  Minden's  voice  was  husky  and  un 
steady. 

Roger  did  not  move.  In  fact,  he  was  incapable  of 
moving. 

"  Look  here,"  he  began.  Then  as  in  a  mist  he  saw 
Peter's  gray  head  appear  at  his  master's  elbow  and 
Peter  himself,  with  his  pack  on  his  back,  thrust  his 
way  past  his  master  into  the  tent,  just  as  Von  Minden 
pulled  the  trigger.  The  shot  seemed  to  hit  everything 
in  the  tent  but  Roger.  The  mist  before  Roger's  eyes 
turned  to  red  and  he  made  a  spring  for  his  guest. 
But  Von  Minden  turned  and  fled,  Peter  after  him, 
straight  eastward  across  the  desert  toward  the  Coyote 
Range.  They  ran  with  surprising  speed.  Roger  de 
layed  long  enough  to  get  Ernest's  rifle  out  of  his  trunk. 
By  the  time  he  had  loaded  it,  after  searching  frantically 
several  minutes  for  the  box  of  cartridges,  Von  Minden 
and  his  little  burro  were  far  beyond  rifle  shot. 

Roger  started  after  them,  hot  foot,  swearing  vi 
ciously  as  he  ran.  As  he  saw  the  little  German  turn 
into  the  ranch  trail  a  sudden  fear  for  the  two  girls 
mingled  with  his  anger.  But  Von  Minden  did  not 
stop  at  the  ranch  house.  As  Roger  reached  the  alfalfa 
field,  burro  and  man  veered  to  the  right,  around  the 
adobe  and  rapidly  on  up  the  mountain  trail,  where  they 
were  quickly  lost  to  view. 

Roger  saw  Charley  come  hastily  out  of  the  house, 
followed  by  Felicia  and  when,  panting  and  shaken 
with  rage,  he  reached  the  house,  they  were  still  look 
ing  curiously  toward  the  mountain  trail. 

"  What's  the  trouble,  Roger?  "  called  Charley. 


VON  MINDEN  113 

"  He  shot  at  me,  the  damned  hound !  Tried  to  kill 
me!" 

He  would  have  passed  on  up  the  mountain  trail,  but 
Charley  had  hurried  down  the  trail  and  interrupted 
him  quietly,  with  a  steady  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  It's  only  Crazy  Dutch !  "  she  said.  "  You  mustn't 
mind  him!  " 

"  Mind  him !  "  shouted  Roger.  "  I  tell  you  he  tried 
to  kill  me." 

"  You  should  have  kept  his  gun  for  him  until  he  was 
ready  to  go.  That's  what  we  always  do.  And  as  for 
his  taking  a  pot  shot  at  you,  why,  that's  all  in  the  day's 
work  in  this  part  of  the  country." 

She  smiled  as  she  spoke,  looking  levelly  into  his 
eyes  from  her  splendid  height.  Felicia  caught  his 
sleeve. 

"  We  were  coming  down  to  call  on  you,  Roger,  and 
now  you've  spoiled  it,"  she  said. 

"  Sit  down  on  the  steps  and  cool  off  a  little,"  sug 
gested  Charley.  "  You  know  you  can  always  kill 
Crazy  Dutch  if  you  want  to.  He's  always  around. 
He's  really  a  dear  old  man  when  you  come  to  know 
him.  He's  helped  me  out  here  many  a  time  when 
Dick's  been  sick  or  away."  She  was  smiling  still  more 
broadly  as  she  led  Roger  to  the  steps.  He  felt  as  if 
he  were  being  hypnotized. 

"  But  he  tried  to  kill  me,"  he  repeated  feebly,  as 
Charley  stood  his  rifle  in  a  corner  of  the  porch  and  sent 
P'elicia  for  a  cup  of  water. 

"Poor  child!  Did  he  try  to  kill  you?"  Charley 
patted  his  arm  as  if  he  were  a  small  boy.  "  Sit  down 
in  the  shade  here.  I  know  you  think  we're  all  crazy 
down  here  and  I  guess  we  are.  But  you'll  get  fond  of 


114  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

poor  Crazy  Dutch  yourself.  Dick  loves  him  and  he 
tried  to  shoot  Dicky,  when  they  first  knew  each  other." 

The  red  mist  cleared  suddenly  from  Roger's  vision. 
He  drank  deeply  of  the  water  Felicia  brought  him  and 
looked  at  Charley  curiously.  She  was  the  first  person 
since  his  mother  had  died  who  had  been  able  to  ease 
his  outbursts  of  temper.  Felicia  was  still  aggrieved. 
She  looked  at  Roger  reproachfully. 

u  We  were  coming  down  to  call  on  you  and  now 
you've  spoiled  it." 

Roger  jumped  to  his  feet  with  a  laugh.  "  I'll  go 
home  at  once.  Come  along." 

"  No,  we've  got  to  dress  up.  It's  going  to  be  a 
regular  call/'  said  the  child. 

"  We  were  coming  down  about  half  past  four  to 
bring  you  back  to  supper  with  us,"  said  Charley. 

Roger  was  suddenly  conscious  of  the  fact  that  he 
had  a  day's  beard  on  his  face.  He  started  down  the 
trail,  hastily,  after  retrieving  his  gun. 

"  I'll  be  glad  to  see  you  ladies  whenever  you  call,"  he 
said,  "  but  I'm  not  going  to  promise  not  to  shoot 
Crazy  Dutch  if  he  comes  round  again." 

The  call,  which  was  made  with  due  ceremony  at  the 
hour  mentioned,  was  a  great  success.  Roger,  fresh 
shaved,  and  quite  recovered  from  the  shock  of  Von 
Minden's  visit,  played  host  with  just  enough  formality 
to  delight  Felicia.  Charley  was  deeply  interested  in 
the  plans  for  the  Sun  Plant.  It  was  the  first  time 
Roger  had  explained  his  general  scheme  of  solar  heat 
ing  to  her  and  he  was  surprised  by  her  eager  intelli 
gence. 

The  sun  was  setting  when  they  started  back  to  the 
ranch  house,  with  Felicia  chatting  like  a  magpie. 


VON  MINDEN  115 

Roger  did  the  milking  and  the  other  chores,  by  the  light 
of  a  "  bug." 

Charley  gave  them  a  simple  supper,  but  the  beans 
and  bacon,  hot  biscuit  and  canned  blackberries  seemed 
extraordinarily  delicious  to  Roger.  He  and  Felicia 
washed  the  supper  dishes  while  Charley  put  a  batch  of 
bread  to  rise. 

The  evening  tasks  finished,  they  established  them 
selves  before  the  living-room  fire.  Roger  lighted  his 
pipe. 

"  Can't  I  sit  up  till  quarter  after  eight  to-night, 
Charley  ?  "  asked  Felicia. 

"  You  wanted  to  do  that  last  night,"  replied  Charley. 

"  And  you  wouldn't  let  me.     Won't  you  to-night  ?  " 

"  No,  dear." 

"  Then,"  great  eyes  on  the  implacable  face  of  the 
alarm  clock,  "  I've  only  five  minutes  to  sit  up.  Char 
ley,  I  can't  bear  it." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  can,"  said  Roger.  "  Think  how  aw 
ful  it  would  be  if  you  had  to  go  to  bed  at  half -past 
seven.  That's  what  happened  to  me  when  I  was  your 
age." 

"  Didn't  your  mother  love  you  ?  I  don't  see  how 
she  could  help  it.  You  must  have  been  a  cunning  boy." 

"  I  was  a  long-legged,  awkward,  freckle- faced  brat, 
but  she  loved  me.  Mothers  are  like  that." 

Felicia  nodded  understandingly  but  did  not  take 
her  eyes  from  the  clock.  "  There  it  goes,  that  nasty 
little  minute  hand!  I'm  sorry  I  ever  learned  to  tell 
time." 

"  Say  good  night  to  Roger,  Felicia,  and  run  off  to 
bed.  There's  a  dear." 

Felicia  rose  obediently,  put  her  arms  around  Roger's 


n6  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

neck  and  kissed  him.  "  I  don't  like  a  man's  kiss,  when 
it  tastes  of  tobacco,"  she  said,  "  but  I  suppose  I  might 
as  well  get  used  to  it  for  when  we're  married,  Roger." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  said  Roger,  meekly.  "  I'll  give  up 
smoking  if  you  really  want  me  to." 

Felicia  giggled,  picked  up  her  doll,  then  turned  to 
look  at  the  clock.  It  pointed  to  one  minute  after  eight. 
She  put  out  her  tongue  at  her  enemy,  then  dragged 
slowly  into  the  bedroom  which  she  shared  with  Char 
ley,  and  shut  the  door. 

Roger  and  Charley  smiled  at  each  other.  "  Were 
you  a  chatterbox,  too,  at  her  age?"  he  asked.  "I 
can't  remember  that  you  were." 

"  Dick  says  I  was." 

"  But  you're  very  silent  for  a  girl.  What  has 
changed  you  ?  " 

Charley  laughed,  then  answered  soberly :  "  The 
desert." 

They  both  sat  looking  at  the  fire  after  this.  The 
silence  had  lasted  some  time  when  Charley  said 
thoughtfully :  "  And  so  a  big  dream  will  materialize 
in  our  valley  after  all.  I  can't  tell  you  how  glad  I  am." 

"Why?"  asked  Roger,  with  interest.  "Did  Dick 
come  out  here  with  a  big  dream?  " 

"  Yes,  we  were  going  to  make  the  desert  blossom 
like  the  rose.  We  were  going  to  have  the  biggest  al 
falfa  ranch  in  the  southwest." 

'''  Well,  you've  got  a  good  start,  haven't  you  ?  " 

Charley  shook  her  head  and  lapsed  into  silence  again. 
Roger  refilled  his  pipe  and  replenished  the  fire.  The 
flames  leaped  up  and  turned  the  gray  Navajo  to  rose 
color.  The  night  wind  which  Roger  had  learned  to 
expect  about  nine  o'clock  swooped  down  the  chimney. 


VON  MINDEN  117 

The  faint  bark  and  long  drawn  howl  of  a  coyote  pack 
sounded  from  the  valley  and  from  behind  the  adobe 
rose  a  whimper  that  increased  to  a  scream  that  was 
almost  human.  Roger  sat  forward  in  his  chair. 

"  Wild  cats !  "  said  Charley.  "  Dick  and  I  both  have 
shot  several  but  we  can't  get  rid  of  them." 

"  Look  here,"  exclaimed  Roger.  "  I'm  going  to 
stay  here  all  night.5' 

"  What's  the  matter?     Afraid  to  go  home?  " 

Roger  grinned.  "  Yes,  but  I'm  more  afraid  to 
leave  you  two  girls  here  alone." 

"  My  good  man,  I've  been  staying  here  alone  about 
every  two  months  for  four  years.  I'm  not  a  bit 
afraid." 

Roger  looked  at  her  keenly,  but  her  deep  eyes  did  not 
waver.  "  You  may  have  got  used  to  it,"  he  said  ob 
stinately,  "  but  I'll  wager  anything  that  when  you  first 
came  you  were  just  paralyzed  with  fear." 

"  I  was  indeed !  "  Charley  shook  her  head  as  if  in 
wonder  at  that  early  fear.  "  I  used  to  barricade  my 
self  in  the  bedroom  and  slept  with  the  little  .22  at  the 
head  of  the  bed." 

"  I  don't  see  how  your  brother  — "  began  Roger. 

"  He  had  to  go,"  interrupted  Charley.  "  Don't  you 
try  to  prove  that  Dick  isn't  devoted  to  me,  for  he  is. 
He  had  to  see  the  doctor  because  he  came  out  here 
with  bad  lungs.  He's  all  cured  of  that  now.  No  one 
could  be  more  of  a  dear  than  Dick,  when  he's  —  well." 

She  spoke  with  such  vehemence,  leaning  forward  in 
her  chair  with  such  a  depth  of  protest  in  her  wide  eyes 
that  Roger  was  surprised. 

"  Good  Lord,  I  wasn't  criticizing  Dick.  I  think  he's 
a  fine  chap.  Only  I  don't  think  a  girl  ought  to  be 


ii8  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

sleeping  alone,  twenty-five  miles  from  the  nearest 
neighbor." 

"  I'm  safer  here  alone  than  I  would  be  in  St.  Louis 
or  Chicago,"  exclaimed  Charley,  leaning  back  in  her 
chair  with  a  little  laugh.  "  Now  tell  me  what  you  are 
going  to  do  after  your  Sun  Plant  begins  to  pump 
water  ?  " 

"  Try  to  get  money  interested  in  developing  this  and 
other  waste  countries.  There  are  untold  mineral  riches 
in  these  ranges,  if  only  there  were  a  cheap  way  to  get 
them  out.  Now  don't  get  excited  as  Crazy  Dutch  did 
and  shoot  me  up !  By  the  way,  he  told  me  his  name 
was  Otto  von  Minden." 

Charley  nodded.  "  I  believe  he  comes  of  good  fam 
ily.  He  speaks  the  finest  kind  of  Berliner  German. 
Poor  old  thing!" 

Roger  snorted.  "  I'll  poor  him  when  I  catch  him ! 
Til  have  him  committed  to  an  asylum." 

Charley  laughed.  "  You'd  have  hard  work  getting 
that  done.  Asylums  are  rare  here  and  every  one  is 
fond  of  the  little  German.  I  wish  I  knew  as  much  as 
he  does  about  German  literature.  Some  day  I'm  going 
to  Germany.  It  must  be  a  wonderful  country." 

"  Did  you  learn  German  in  college  ?  " 

"  In  High  School  and  the  University  both.  I'd  like 
to  have  had  some  French  too,  but  there  were  no  native 
French  teachers  and  I  didn't  fancy  learning  French 
with  somebody's  accent  plus  my  own.  On  the  other 
hand  the  German  teachers  and  the  courses  they  offered 
were  fine.  I  feel  as  if  I  knew  more  about  Germany 
than  any  other  country  outside  the  United  States." 

"  So  do  I,"  replied  Roger,  thoughtfully. 

"  I  think  that  instead  of  getting  Crazy  Dutch  com- 


VON  MINDEN  119 

mitted  you'd  better  get  to  know  him,"  Charley  went  on. 
"  He's  so  well  connected  in  Germany,  in  spite  of  his 
forlorn  appearance,  he  might  prove  a  valuable  ac 
quaintance  for  you/' 

Roger,  whose  wrath  against  Von  Minden  had  dis 
appeared  much  to  his  own  astonishment,  nodded  his 
head,  and  once  more  silence  fell  between  them. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  Roger  next  observed  the 
inexorable  hand  of  the  alarm  clock. 

"  I  wish  I'd  never  learned  to  tell  time/'  he  said  as  he 
rose  reluctantly,  "  and  I  wish  you'd  tell  me  as  much 
about  yourself  as  I've  told  you  about  me." 

"  There's  so  little  to  tell,"  protested  Charley. 

"Oh,  there's  a  great  deal  to  tell,"  contradicted 
Roger.  "  The  chief  thing  being  why  the  desert  has 
changed  you  from  a  chatterbox  to  a  Sphinx." 

"  That  you'll  never  know !  Run  along  home  now 
before  the  coyotes  or  Von  Minden  get  you." 

Roger  grinned  and  said  good  night. 

He  was  up  with  the  birds  the  next  morning,  prepared 
to  give  a  long  day's  work  to  cleaning  the  well  and 
covering  it.  It  was  not  yet  noon  when  he  saw  a  curi 
ous  procession  moving  toward  the  camp  along  the 
Archer's  Springs  trail.  It  appeared  to  consist  of  a 
small  string  of  burros,  led  by  a  bright  red  or  pink 
umbrella. 

"  I  thought  somebody  said  the  desert  was  lonesome/' 
said  Roger  to  himself.  "  Me  —  I  run  a  regular  way 
side  inn."  He  lighted  his  pipe  and  sat  down  on  the 
well  curb  to  wait.  Gradually  he  discerned  that  the 
pink  parasol,  undulating  now  against  the  sapphire  of 
the  sky,  now  against  the  dancing  yellow  of  a  sand  drift, 
was  upheld  by  a  woman  who  sat  astride  a  tiny  burro. 


120  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

It  was  ten  minutes  after  he  discovered  this  that  the 
lady  rode  majestically  into  the  camp  and  dismounted, 
with  magnificent  gesture,  throwing  one  leg  over  the 
burro's  drooping  head.  The  three  burros  who  \vere 
strung  behind  her  stopped  in  their  tracks  as  though 
half  dead. 

Roger  rose  and  doffed  his  hat.  This  was  the  largest 
woman  he  ever  had  seen.  She  was  easily  three  inches 
taller  than  Roger  and  splendidly  proportioned,  huge  of 
shoulder,  broad  of  hip,  but  without  an  ounce  of  fat 
upon  her.  Her  face  was  gaunt  and  brown:  thin  lips, 
long  thin  nose,  gray  eyes  set  deep,  iron  gray  hair  strag 
gling  over  her  forehead  from  under  a  dusty  pink  sun- 
bonnet.  She  wore  a  linen  duster  buttoned  close  to  her 
chin. 

"  How  do  you  do,  sir,"  she  said  in  a  pleasantly  mod 
ulated  voice.  "  My  name  is  Clarissa  Foster  von  Min- 
den." 

"  Mine  is  Roger  Moore.  Won't  you  come  into  the 
cook  tent  and  let  me  get  you  some  lunch  ?  " 

"  Yes,  thank  you,"  looking  about  her  with  keen  in 
terest.  "  This  is  the  place." 

Roger,  lighting  the  gasoline  stove,  looked  at  his 
caller  inquiringly.  She  smiled  at  him  as  she  pulled 
off  her  sunbonnet  and  dust  coat,  revealing  a  robe  of 
pink  calico  not  unlike  an  old  fashioned  "  mother  hub- 
bard." 

"I  am  a  disciple  of  the  Yogis,  Mr.  Moore.  I 
dreamed  that  my  husband  was  to  be  found  in  such  a 
camp  as  this  and  here  I  am." 

"  I  suppose  you're  referring  to  Otto  von  Minden. 
Yes,  he  was  here  yesterday.  He's  a  genial  soul.  He 
tried  to  shoot  me." 


VON  MINDEN  121 

Mrs.  von  Minden  nodded.  "  That's  Otto.  He  had 
those  ways.  I've  not  seen  him  for  five  years.  No 
bacon,  Mr.  Moore.  I  never  touch  animal  fats.  Just 
some  tea,  fruit  and  crackers.  Later,  I'll  unpack  some 
olive  oil  which  you  may  use  when  cooking  for  me." 

Roger  nearly  dropped  the  tea  kettle.  His  mouth 
fell  open  as  he  stared  at  his  caller. 

"  Don't  be  startled,  my  friend,"  she  cried.  "  Great 
things  are  to  come  to  you  if  you  obey  the  Voices. 
And  I've  brought  my  own  tent  and  supplies." 

"  But  your  husband  isn't  here,  madam,"  protested 
Roger.  "  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  wouldn't  have  him 
about  the  place.  He's  just  plain  crazy." 

"  Oh,  no,  he's  not  crazy.  He's  had  a  touch  of  the 
sun,  undoubtedly.  But  he's  not  crazy.  He's  a  bril 
liant  man.  I  can  make  him  very  useful  to  you." 

Roger  scratched  his  head  and  grinned.  "  You 
haven't  by  any  chance  had  a  touch  of  the  sun  yourself, 
Mrs.  von  Minden?  " 

The  lady  laughed.  "  I  must  seem  so  to  an  outsider. 
You  are  still  on  the  first  plane  while  I  am  on  the  sev 
enth." 

"  I'll  water  the  burros  while  the  kettle  boils,"  said 
Roger  hastily.  He  provided  plentifully  for  the  poor 
brutes,  at  the  same  time  gazing  desperately  toward  the 
ranch  house.  He  felt  badly  in  need  of  advice. 

As  if  in  answer  to  his  need  he  saw  a  tiny  figure  come 
down  the  trail  from  the  corral.  It  was  Felicia,  evi 
dently  coming  to  the  Sun  Plant.  Roger  slipped  into 
the  living  tent  and  wrote  a  hasty  note  to  Charley,  ap 
prizing  her  of  events  and  begging  her  to  come  to  his 
aid.  By  the  time  he  had  established  Mrs.  von  Minden 
at  her  luncheon,  Felicia  reached  the  camp.  But  before 


122  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

his  visitor  caught  sight  of  her,  he  had  sent  the  child 
back  with  the  note.  He  felt  immeasurably  relieved 
when  this  was  accomplished. 

"  Now,  madam,"  he  said,  "  perhaps  you  would  not 
mind  resting  here  in  the  cook  tent  while  I  finish  cover 
ing  in  the  well.  It  is  dangerous  to  leave  it  open  with 
all  the  people  that  run  about  the  desert  in  this  neigh 
borhood." 

Madam  graciously  gave  her  assent  and  Roger  fell  to 
work  briskly,  laughing  now  and  again  to  himself  in  a 
half  vexed  way.  Sooner  than  he  had  dared  hope, 
Charley  and  Felicia  appeared.  Leaving  Felicia  to 
watch  the  burros,  Roger  led  Charley  into  the  living 
tent  and  gave  the  details  of  his  predicament.  Charley 
laughed  quietly  but  immoderately  and  Roger  joined 
her. 

"  How  many  crazy  people  have  you  in  the  desert  ?  " 
he  asked,  finally. 

"  Uncle  Otto  is  the  only  one  I've  known  in  my  four 
years  here.  You're  having  wonderful  luck.  And  the 
old  boy  has  always  pretended  he's  a  bachelor." 

"  Perhaps  he'll  shoot  her  on  sight,"  said  Roger  in  a 
hopeful  voice. 

"  Oh,  what  an  awful  thing  to  say  1 "  protested  Char- 
ley. 

"  Wait  till  you  see  the  dame,"  returned  Roger. 
"  Charley,  I  can't  have  her  staying  the  night  here  and 
I  don't  dare  to  send  her  up  to  your  place.  She  might 
run  amuck." 

"Pshaw,  no,  she  won't!  I'll  take  care  of  her. 
Show  me  the  lady." 

Roger  led  the  way  to  the  cook  tent.  Mrs.  von  Min- 
Hen  sat  on  a  bench,  her  back  against  a  tent  pole,  her 


VON  MINDEN  123 

eyes  closed.  She  opened  them,  however,  when  Roger 
spoke  her  name  and  acknowledged  the  introduction  to 
Charley  and  Felicia  with  considerable  air.  She  re 
fused  Charley's  offer  of  hospitality,  with  utter  finality. 

"  Here  my  Yogis  directed  me,  and  here  I  must  stay 
until  my  husband  comes.  I  will  be  no  burden,  after 
my  tent  is  set  up,  if  the  young  man  will  cook  for  me. 
And  my  gray  hairs  are  sufficient  chaperone." 

"  But  I  will  not  cook  for  you,"  said  Roger  very 
firmly.  "  My  partner  and  I  find  it  hard  enough  work 
cooking  for  ourselves.  We  are  under  great  nervous 
and  physical  strain,  Mrs.  von  Minden,  and  I  must  tell 
you  frankly,  it  will  be  extremely  inconvenient  to  have 
you  here.  This  rough  camp  is  no  place  for  a  woman." 

"No  place  for  a  woman,  eh?"  repeated  Mrs.  von 
Minden.  "  Why  it's  paradise  compared  to  some  of 
the  places  Otto  von  Minden  has  kept  me  in."  She  rose 
suddenly  and  began  to  pace  the  sandy  floor,  a  majestic 
figure  in  spite  of  her  grotesqueness.  "  What  was  I 
when  he  found  me,  an  unsophisticated  girl  of  twenty, 
living  in  my  quiet  New  Hampshire  home.  He  prom 
ised  me  everything  —  travel,  court  life,  the  emper 
or's  favor.  What  does  he  give  me  but  desert  camps? 
Camps  where  he  and  I  were  the  only  human  beings 
within  a  thousand  miles.  Camps  where  I  worked  like 
any  squaw  —  where  a  bit  of  tent  and  a  blanket  made 
our  entire  equipment.  Five  years  ago  he  left  me. 
I've  taught  school  long  enough  to  save  money  for  an 
outfit  and  now  I  shall  not  leave  till  I  have  found  him 
and  given  him  the  message  of  the  Yogis." 

"  But,  Mr.  von  Minden  comes  to  see  me  every  once 
in  a  while.  You'll  be  much  more  apt  to  find  him  at 
the  ranch  than  here." 


124  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Here  I  must  stay,"  reiterated  the  unwelcome  guest, 
with  a  sudden  quaver  in  her  voice  that  made  Roger  say 
hastily : 

"  Oh,  very  well !  Mrs.  von  Minden.  If  you'll  show 
me  which  is  your  tent  pack,  I'll  try  to  make  you  com 
fortable." 

"  I'll  stay  and  help,"  said  Charley. 

"  So  will  I,"  cried  Felicia.  "  I'd  love  to  unpack  the 
burros.  All  the  bundles  are  so  knobby.  Are  there  any 
doll  dishes  there,  Mrs.  von  Minden  ?  " 

As  if  she  saw  the  child  for  the  first  time,  Mrs.  von 
Minden  gazed  at  her  in  astonishment.  "  Why,  my 
dear,  how  much  you  look  like  your  sister !  No,  there 
are  no  doll  dishes  there,  I'm  sorry  to  say.  Come,  chil 
dren  !  "  and  her  pink  robe  blowing  she  led  the  way  to 
the  patient  burros. 

"  Isn't  this  fun?  "  whispered  Charley  to  Roger. 

"  Maybe !     But  how'll  I  explain  to  Ernest?  " 

The  mere  thought  of  this  sent  Charley  off  into  a  gale 
of  laughter  that  caused  Mrs.  von  Minden  to  ask 
sharply : 

"What  is  so  funny?" 

"  I'm  just  laughing  at  what  Mr.  Moore's  partner 
and  my  brother  will  say  when  they  get  in  some  time 
to-night  and  find  a  lady  establi-shed  here,"  answered 
Charley  frankly. 

The  visitor  smiled  grimly  and  set  about  her  unpack 
ing.  The  particularly  knobby  bundle  which  had  fas 
cinated  Felicia  proved  to  be  a  rocking  chair,  enwrapped 
by  the  canvas  tent.  There  was  a  compact  little  cook 
ing  outfit,  several  large  books  on  Occultism,  an  air  mat 
tress,  two  pink  quilts,  a  pink  pillow  and  a  suitcase  of 
clothing.  One  burro  was  loaded  with  provisions,  con- 


VON  MINDEN  125 

sisting  of  olive  oil,  sugar,  coffee,  flour  and  canned 
cheese. 

Roger  knocked  together  a  crude  tent  frame  and 
stretched  the  tent  over  it,  Mrs.  von  Minden  directing 
while  Charley  and  Felicia  tugged  with  him.  The 
guest  refused  to  allow  Roger  to  make  a  bunk  for  her. 
The  Yogis,  -it  seemed,  had  told  her  to  sleep  on  the 
ground.  When  the  mattress  and  rocking  chair  and  a 
box  for  a  table  had  been  established  in  the  tent  Madam 
expressed  herself  as  satisfied. 

"  You  may  rest  now,  children,"  she  said,  "  while  I 
concentrate." 

"  By  the  way,"  suggested  Roger.  "  How  about  the 
burros?  With  all  the  good  will  in  the  world,  I  can't 
feed  them,  for  I  have  no  fodder." 

"  You  have  a  ranch,  Miss  Preble,"  said  Mrs.  von 
Minden.  "  I  will  pay  you  for  boarding  them.  What 
is  the  charge?  " 

"  My  brother  will  take  care  of  that  on  his  return," 
answered  Charley.  "  We'll  lead  them  up  when  we  go 
home." 

"  You're  not  going  yet,  Charley,"  exclaimed  Roger, 
in  alarm.  "  You  must  stay  to  supper." 

"  I  never  was  so  popular  in  my  life,"  laughed  Char 
ley.  "Of  course  I'll  stay.  Let  me  have  a  look  at 
the  new  well,  Roger.  Do  you  think  it's  going  to  meet 
your  demands?  " 

She  crossed  the  camp  to  admire  the  new  pump, 
Roger  following. 

"  I  don't  think  it  will  do  more  than  supply  engine 
and  camp  needs,"  replied  Roger.  "  I  don't  know 
whether  to  go  ahead,  prospecting  for  water,  or  to  erect 
the  plant  first." 


126  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Why  don't  you  erect  your  plant,  then  if  you  don't 
find  enough  water  after  drilling  for  it,  with  your  en 
gine,  move  up  to  the  ranch  and  use  our  spring.  Tm 
not  trying  to  graft  something  free.  We'll  be  glad  to 
pay  for  it.  But  our  old  gasoline  engine  is  an  awful 
lemon  and  it's  going  to  be  an  awful  job  to  keep  up  the 
supply  of  gasoline." 

"  Jove !  My  first  customer !  Charley,  you're  a 
peach !  "  exclaimed  Roger.  "  I  suppose  I  might  put 
my  plant  up  on  your  place  to  begin  with.  But  no,  this 
is  the  spot  the  Smithsonian  picked,  it's  government 
land,  and  to  move  now  might  make  endless  complica 
tions.  But  you'll  have  your  pumping  plant,  Charley, 
before  any  one  else  does.  And  we'll  make  the  alfalfa 
crops  pay  for  it." 

Charley  nodded,  then  gasped,  "  Look,  Roger !  Oh, 
if  Ernest  and  Dick  could  only  steal  in  now!  " 

The  guest  had  pulled  her  rocker  out  before  the  tent 
flap  and  was  seated  in  it,  eyes  closed,  hands  clasped 
over  her  stomach,  immovable  except  for  a  light  sway 
ing  of  her  chair. 

"  Concentrating,  I  suppose,"  muttered  Roger. 
"  Charley,  I'll  bet  the  old  bird  will  never  leave  me.  I 
have  the  feeling." 

"  What  on  earth  does  she  mean  by  concentrating  ?  " 
gasped  Charley,  through  her  laughter. 

"  Oh,  it's  some  of  that  occult  rot,  I  don't  doubt," 
groaned  Roger.  "  Charley,  stay  till  the  fellows  come. 
I'm  frightened." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  laughed  Charley,  "  I'm  going  to 
get  us  all  an  early  supper  and  put  those  burros  to  bed 
before  dark." 

She  was  as  good  as  her  word.     The  afterglow  had 


VON  MINDEN  127 

not  faded  from  the  sky  when  Roger  returned  to  the 
camp,  after  helping  Charley  with  her  chores.  His 
guest  had  retired  to  her  tent  and  Roger  withdrew  to 
his  and  threw  himself  down  on  his  cot  to  await  the 
return  of  Dick  and  Ernest. 

It  was  midnight  when  the  teams  rattled  into  camp. 
Roger  hastened  out  at  once. 

"  We'll  unhitch  and  leave  both  wagons  here  to  un 
load  in  the  morning,"  said  Ernest. 

Dick  already  was  silently  unchecking  his  horses,  re 
turning  only  a  grunt  to  Roger's  greeting. 

"  I'll  go  with  you,  Dick,  and  take  our  team  to  the 
corral,"  said  Roger. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool !  "  growled  Dick.  "  I'll  take  them 
without  any  help.  If  I've  got  to  board  'em,  I'll  do  the 
work  for  'em.  Don't  you  butt  in !  "  He  mounted  one 
of  his  own  horses  and  stringing  the  others  behind,  he 
rode  off  under  the  starlight. 

"  For  the  Lord's  sake !  "  exclaimed  Roger,  following 
Ernest  into  the  tent,  "  what's  the  matter  with  Dick? " 

Ernest  tossed  a  pile  of  mail  onto  the  trunk  beside 
the  candle.  "  I  haven't  the  remotest  idea.  He  was 
as  jolly  as  usual  when  we  had  our  supper  at  sunset. 
About  an  hour  ago  I  spoke  to  him  and  he  took  my 
head  off.  I  haven't  tried  him  since.  Sweet  for  poor 
Charley." 

"  I  didn't  know  he  was  subject  to  grouches,"  mused 
Roger.  "  Say,  Ern,  before  I  read  the  mail,  I've  got 
some  news  for  you." 

"  Qui-tha  done  some  real  work?  "  asked  Ernest  with 
a  yawn. 

"Oh,  Qui-tha!  I'd  forgotten  him.  He  departed 
that  morning  without  a  farewell.  We  have,  however, 


128  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

another  guest,  who  is  at  this  moment  asleep  in  her  own 
tent,  near  the  cook  house." 

"  Get  out,  Roger!  It's  too  late  for  joking.  Let  me 
get  to  bed." 

"  A  regular  lady,  Ern,  six  feet  two  or  three  in  height 
and  as  near  as  I  can  make  out  she's  here  for  keeps. 
She's  Von  Minden's  wife." 

Ernest  stopped  yawning.  "  Who  the  deuce  is  Von 
Minden?" 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  to  mention  him.  He's  the  man  who 
tried  to  shoot  me  yesterday." 

Ernest  stared  at  Roger  incredulously.  "  Rog, 
what's  the  matter  with  you  ?  You're  positively  maud 
lin." 

Roger  chuckled.  "  Next  time  you  want  excitement, 
Ernie,  don't  go  to  Archer's  Springs.  Stay  right  at 
home  here  in  the  God-forsakenest  spot  on  earth.  Now 
I'll  make  my  story  as  short  as  I  can,  but  you've  got  to 
hear  it  to-night.  I  can't  sleep  with  it  on  my  chest  and 
she's  liable  to  break  loose  with  something  any  time." 

He  finished  his  story  as  rapidly  as  possible,  Ernest's 
consternation  growing  as  he  proceeded. 

"  But,  my  Lord,  Rog,  she  can't  stay  here !  "  he  cried. 

"  So  I  told  her.  So  Charley  told  her.  But  she's 
here.  In  her  tent.  On  her  air  mattress.  Her  rocking 
chair  beside  her.  Her  books  on  occultism  at  her  head." 

"  I  was  going  to  ask  you  to  read  that  letter  from 
Washington  to-night,"  said  Ernest,  feebly,  "  but  I  feel 
that  I  need  immediate  rest.  I'll  go  up  in  the  morning 
to  see  Dick  and  if  he  still  has  his  grouch  with  him,  I'll 
bring  him  back  to  tackle  the  lady." 

Roger  yawned.     "  Guess  I  will  leave  the  mail  until 


VON  MINDEN  129 

morning.     That  woman  has  exhausted  me  more  than 
any  job  we've  tackled  yet." 

He  blew  out  the  candle  and  in  a  few  moments  the 
little  camp  was  silent  in  the  star  glow. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   LETTER    FROM    WASHINGTON 

IN  spite  of  his  weariness,  Roger  could  not  sleep.  He 
scarcely  had  closed  his  eyes  when  the  memory  of 
Dick's  curious  ugliness  made  him  open  them  and  stare 
into  the  darkness.  What  in  the  world  could  induce  a 
seemingly  pleasant  fellow  like  Dick  to  go  off  apparently 
without  cause  into  a  deep  seated  grouch  ? 

Roger  shook  himself.  What  a  fool  he  was  to  lie 
awake  over  a  thing  as  trivial  as  this.  All  men  were 
moody.  Roger  told  himself  that,  excepting  Ernest, 
every  man  he  knew  had  unaccountable  grouches.  Then 
he  closed  his  eyes  and  opened  them  again.  \Vould 
Dick  row  Charley?  It  was  unthinkable  that  a  man 
should  row  a  woman  of  her  type.  Roger  had  discov 
ered  that  he  admired  his  old  time  playmate  very  much. 
She  was  so  calm,  so  clear  headed  and  keen  thinking. 
With  all  the  dignity  of  her  splendid  boyish  physique 
added  to  her  splendid  intelligence,  it  was  very  unpleas 
ant  to  think  of  her  having  to  submit  to  bullying. 

Roger  turned  over  with  a  sigh.  After  a  time  of 
tossing,  moved  by  an  unaccountable  impulse,  he  crept 
out  of  bed  and  peered  from  the  tent  flap  toward  the 
ranch  house.  A  faint  speck  of  light  flecked  the  dark 
ness.  He  scratched  a  match  and  looked  at  his  watch. 
It  was  half  past  two.  He  went  back  to  bed,  where  he 

130 


THE  LETTER  FROM  WASHINGTON     131 

lay  for  a  half  hour,  wondering  what  was  going  on  at 
the  ranch  house. 

This  was  an  unusual  proceeding  for  Roger.  Like 
most  only  children  Roger  had  grown  up  self-centered 
and  more  or  less  selfish.  His  work  had  tended  to  in 
crease  these  characteristics.  Not  since  his  mother's 
death,  with  the  single  exception  of  his  thoughtful  affec 
tion  for  Mamma  Wolf,  had  Roger  spent  so  much  of 
himself  on  another's  problem  as  he  now  was  spending 
on  Charley's. 

He  rose  again.  The  light  still  shone  from  the 
adobe.  He  slipped  into  his  clothes  and  noiselessly  left 
the  tent.  It  was  nipping  cold  and  he  walked  as  fast  as 
the  heavy  sand  permitted.  As  he  neared  the  ranch,  a 
second  light  appeared  and  moved  down  to  the  corral. 
A  few  minutes  later  Roger  had  reached  the  bars. 

"  Dick,"  he  cried  softly  to  the  dark  figure  that  was 
pulling  the  harness  off  one  of  the  horses.  "  It's  Roger ! 
Anything  the  matter?  I  saw  the  light."  The  figure 
dropped  the  harness  and  ran  over  to  the  bar.  As  the 
"  bug  "  light  caught  her  face,  Roger  saw  that  it  was 
Charley. 

"  Oh,  Roger !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I'm  so  glad,  so 
glad  to  see  you !  " 

He  vaulted  over  the  bar. 

"  Hush/'  she  said,  "  Dick's  sick  and  I've  just  gotten 
him  to  sleep." 

"  Sick !  That  accounts  for  his  grouch  then !  Why 
couldn't  he  say  so !  Shall  I  go  for  the  doctor,  Char 
ley?" 

"  No !  No !  He's  subject  to  these  attacks.  Did  — 
did  Ernest  mind  his  being  cross?"  In  the  candle 
light  Charley  looked  anxiously  into  Roger's  face. 


132  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Not  a  bit.  He  just  wondered  about  it  because  the 
change  came  on  so  suddenly.  What  is  it?  His  stom 
ach?" 

"  Yes,  his  stomach/'  replied  Charley. 

"  Sure  you  don't  want  me  to  go  for  the  doctor  ?  " 

Charley's  voice  trembled  a  little.  "  Very  sure !  But 
you  can  hang  up  the  harness  for  me  while  I  hold  the 
light."  Then,  as  Roger  obeyed  with  alacrity,  she 
asked :  "  What  made  you  come  up  this  hour  of  the 
night?" 

"  I  couldn't  sleep.  Then  I  began  to  think  about 
your  brother's  grouch.  I  got  up  and  took  a  look  in 
this  direction  and  saw  the  light.  I  don't  know  just 
why  I  came.  Restless,  I  guess !  " 

He  tossed  the  lines  over  a  peg  and  came  back  to  take 
the  lantern  from  Charley.  As  the  light  flashed  on  her 
face  he  saw  that  she  looked  very  tired  and  that  her 
lip  was  quivering.  A  wordless  surprise  swept  over 
Roger.  The  feeling  he  had  had  that  Charley  was  like 
an  interesting  boy  whom  he  would  wish  to  keep  for  a 
friend  was  rudely  shocked  by  that  quivering  lip.  Only 
a  girl's  lip  could  tremble  so. 

"  Something  is  wrong,"  he  said,  anxiously.  "  Let 
me  help  you." 

>f  You  have  helped  me,  more  than  you  can  know. 
Go  home  to  bed  now  or  you  won't  be  fit  for  work  to 
morrow.  And  that  work  is  just  about  the  most  impor 
tant  thing  in  this  valley." 

Roger  could  think  of  no  adequate  reply.  He  low 
ered  the  bars  for  Charley  and  put  them  up  again.  The 
two  stood  in  silent  contemplation  of  the  desert  night. 
The  night  wind  was  dying  as  dawn  approached. 
Above  and  below  was  one  perfect  blending  of  dusky 


THE  LETTER  FROM  WASHINGTON     133 

blue,  with  only  the  faint  fleck  of  star  silver  to  mark  the 
sky  from  the  earth.  Roger's  nerves  quickened  to  the 
wonder  of  the  night.  He  turned  to  Charley. 

"  I  don't  feel  as  if  I'd  ever  lived  before/'  he  half 
whispered. 

"  I  know,"  replied  the  girl.  "  I  don't  believe  a  per 
son  could  be  a  real  agnostic  in  the  desert,  do  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Roger,  simply. 

"  You  must  go  to  bed,"  repeated  Charley.  "  And 
you  mustn't  worry  any  more  about  me."  She  turned 
to  run  quickly  up  the  trail  to  the  adobe. 

Roger  started  campward. 

He  was  wakened  later  in  the  morning  by  the  sound 
of  conversation. 

"  I'm  sorry,  madam,  but  I'm  no  cook,  and  I  dislike 
olive  oil,  anyhow.  If  you'll  eat  the  pancakes  as  I 
fry  'em,  in  bacon  fat,  you're  more  than  welcome  to  all 
you  wish.  But  if  you  want  olive  oil  used,  you  must 
fry  them  yourself." 

"Where's  the  other  young  man?  "asked  Mrs.  von 
Minden. 

"  Hey !     Rog !  "  roared  Ernest.     "  You're  wanted." 

Roger  sat  up  on  the  edge  of  his  cot  with  a  yawn. 
As  he  did  so,  his  eye  fell  on  the  unopened  letters  on 
the  trunk. 

Without  waiting  to  dress  he  opened  the  one  post 
marked  Washington.  He  read  it  through  twice,  then 
very  deliberately  rose  and  pulled  on  his  clothing.  His 
face  was  pale  beneath  the  tan  as  he  stepped  out  into 
the  morning  sun. 

"  Ernest,  here's  some  bad  news ! "  he  called. 
"  Come  over  to  the  tent  a  moment." 

As  Ernest  hurried  up,  Roger  said  slowly,  "  Austin 


134  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

is  dead  and  the  Smithsonian  Institute  says  it  doesn't 
know  anything  about  the  deal  with  me." 

Ernest  dropped  the  pancake  turner  he  was  holding. 
"  Good  God !  "  He  read  the  letter,  then  looked  up  into 
Roger's  somber  face.  "  Dropped  dead  in  New  York 
three  weeks  ago.  Poor  chap ! '' 

Roger  nodded.  "  But  what  was  he  up  to  ?  The 
writer  of  that  letter  says  that  although  the  Smithsonian 
was  interested  in  a  general  way  in  our  work,  Austin 
had  no  authority  to  go  ahead.  Now,  where  did  he  get 
the  money  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  he  was  afraid  some  one  else  would  get 
in  on  it  while  the  Smithsonian  was  hesitating,  so  he 
funded  up  himself.  I  suppose  they'd  have  paid  him 
back.  You  remember  his  cursing  out  the  delays  and 
the  red  tape  that  hampered  everything  connected  with 
the  government.  I  thought  he  was  hipped  on  the  sub 
ject,  but  now  — " 

"  What  makes  you  think  all  that?  "  asked  Roger. 

"  Well,  don't  you  remember  in  St.  Louis,  when  he 
was  ordering  stuff  from  the  Condit  Iron  Works  he  said 
he'd  pay  the  bill  himself,  to  get  the  stuff  started?  " 

Roger  shook  his  head.  "  I  don't  remember.  But  I 
guess  you're  right.  Lord,  what  a  good  scout  he  was 
to  have  so  much  faith  in  me !  I  wonder  how  much  he 
spent  on  us,  and  whether  his  wife  is  provided  for?  " 

"  That  won't  be  hard  to  find  out.  What  we've  got 
to  worry  about  now  is  the  situation  with  the  Smithson 
ian.  They  can't  realize  how  far  we've  gone." 

"  Yes,  they  do,"  replied  Roger.  "  That  letter  from, 
what  does  he  sign  himself  —  Hampton?  —  is  in  reply 
to  the  report  I  sent  Austin  from  Archer's  Springs,  two 
weeks  ago.  Why,  they've  got  to  go  on  with  it!  " 


THE  LETTER  FROM  WASHINGTON     135 

"  If  they  won't,  we  are  up  against  it,"  groaned  Er 
nest.  "  I  don't  want  to  ask  father  for  money,  and  you 
and  the  Dean  have  tried  every  one  in  the  world." 

"  And  who  the  devil  wants  you  to  ask  your  father 
for  money  for  me  ?  "  Roger  shouted.  "  Haven't  we 
got  practically  all  the  material  we  need,  bought  and 
paid  for?  We  don't  need  anything  except  food. 
We'll  do  the  work  ourselves." 

Ernest's  gentle  voice  interrupted.     "  But,  Rog  — " 

"  Don't  but  me,"  roared  Roger.  "  I  tell  you  nothing 
shall  stop  me  now!  If  it  takes  twenty  years,  I'll  go 
through  with  this.  I'd  rather  cut  my  throat  than  not 
go  on  with  it.  I've  waited  for  five  years  for  this 
chance.  The  death  of  one  man  won't  stop  me,  nor  the 
indifference  of  some  fool  government  clerk.  This 
plant  is  going  to  be  built." 

"  What  I  started  to  say,"  said  Ernest  quietly,  "  when 
you  began  your  brain-storm,  was  that  if  you'd  sell  your 
laboratory  equipment  up  home  it  would  guarantee  us 
food  for  six  months.  The  Dean  would  attend  to  it  for 
you." 

Roger  sat  down  on  his  cot,  rather  suddenly. 
"  That's  a  good  idea,  Ern,"  he  said,  meekly. 

Ernest  picked  up  the  pancake  turner.  "  I'm  with 
you  to  a  finish  in  this,  Roger.  You  don't  have  to  jaw 
me,  you  know." 

"  Sorry,  old  man,"  muttered  Roger. 

"  It's  all  right,"  replied  Ernest.  "  I'll  finish  getting 
breakfast.  We've  got  all  day  to  talk  this  over.  One 
idea  occurs  to  me.  Perhaps  this  man  Hampton  who 
signs  this  letter  would  be  less  cold  to  the  project  if  he 
had  details.  Why  don't  you  give  him  the  whole  story, 
both  of  the  plant  and  of  our  relationship  to  Austin  ?  " 


136  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  That's  a  good  hunch,"  exclaimed  Roger,  im 
mensely  cheered  up  by  the  suggestion.  "  Well,"  with 
a  sigh,  "  I  might  have  known  I  was  having  too  much 
luck." 

"  It's  the  old  lady.  She's  a  bird  of  ill  omen.  I 
knew  it  the  minute  I  saw  her,  this  morning.  Come  out 
as  soon  as  you  can,  Rog.  I  don't  dare  to  be  alone  with 
her." 

Roger  grinned,  but  did  not  hasten  his  shaving.  Er 
nest  could  be  facetious.  After  all,  the  building  of  the 
plant  was  not  Ernest's  dream.  Roger  was  shocked  by 
the  news  of  Austin's  death,  but  the  shock  was  not  due 
to  grief.  Austin  simply  represented  opportunity  to  the 
young  inventor.  A  sudden  fear  was  clutching  at  his 
heart  lest  now  the  plant  would  never  be  completed. 
Roger  had  learned  much  since  his  arrival  in  the  desert. 
He  had  begun  to  realize  that  the  desert  rights  fero 
ciously  any  attempt  to  subdue  her.  He  knew  now 
that  it  was  going  to  take  much  longer  than  the  outside 
margin  he  had  allowed  to  build  the  plant.  If  a  driven 
well  failed,  he  must  try  out  the  Prebles'.  Perhaps 
Dick's  knowledge  of  irrigation  would  prove  to  be 
sketchy  and  that  water  supply  too  would  prove  inade 
quate.  He  believed  still  that  his  plans  for  the  plant 
itself  would  not  have  to  be  changed. 

"  I  heard  every  word  you  two  said,"  Mrs.  von  Min- 
den's  voice  rose  suddenly.  "  You  needn't  worry  at  all. 
I'll  concentrate  for  you  immediately  after  breakfast." 

"  In  that  case,  we  are  ruined,"  Roger  muttered, 
smiling  in  spite  of  himself,  as  he  dropped  the  tent  flap 
behind  him. 

The  lady  visitor  was  sitting  on  a  bench  beside  the 


THE  LETTER  FROM  WASHINGTON     137 

table  in  the  cook  tent,  contemplating  a  cup  of  coffee 
and  a  plate  of  crackers. 

"  Was  it  your  idea,  madam,"  said  Ernest,  attacking 
a  pile  of  pancakes  some  ten  inches  high,  "that  your 
husband  would  find  you  in  this  camp  ?  " 

"  So  the  Yogis  say,"  replied  Mrs.  von  Minden. 

"  Why  don't  you  fry  yourself  some  cakes,  Mrs.  von 
Minden  ?  "  asked  Roger. 

"  Part  of  my  creed  is  never  to  prepare  food  for  my 
self  if  it  is  possible  to  get  some  one  else  to  do  it.  A 
complete  inertia  is  a  vital  step  toward  Nirvana." 

Roger  grunted.  "  Then  you'll  never  find  Nirvana  in 
this  camp,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Good  morning !  "  cried  Felicia,  appearing  suddenly 
in  the  doorway. 

"  Dicky  is  sick,"  she  announced,  "  and  Charley  sent 
me  down  here  for  the  day.  She  said  please  for  you 
not  to  come  up  because  Dicky  is  so  cross,  she  doesn't 
want  any  one  around." 

Ernest  and  Roger  looked  at  each  other. 

"  I  think  I'd  better  go  up,"  said  Roger. 

"  No,  I'll  go,"  insisted  Ernest. 

"  Charley  doesn't  want  you,"  cried  Felicia.  "  She 
says  so  and  she  always  means  what  she  says." 

"  Oh,  you've  found  that  out,  have  you  ?  "  asked  Er 
nest.  ''  Well,  have  a  flapjack;  my  cook  is  an  artist." 

"  I've  had  breakfast,  thank  you,"  replied  the  little 
girl.  "  I'm  going  out  and  look  at  the  things  in  the 
wagon." 

"  Go  to  it !  "  exclaimed  Ernest.  Then  to  Roger,  "  I 
see  you've  struck  water  at  last.  That  news  evidently 
impressed  you  less  than  other  events,  last  night." 


138  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Roger  nodded.  "  There's  not  much  of  it  and  it's 
vile  to  taste.  But  it'll  take  care  of  our  camp  wants  and 
the  engine.  Charley  suggested  that  if  we  didn't  strike 
an  adequate  supply  when  we  drove  the  well  farther, 
we'd  better  set  the  plant  up  at  their  place.  They'd  be 
our  first  customers." 

"  Better  not  take  her  up  till  you've  done  a  lot  of 
experimenting  down  here,"  said  Ernest,  quickly. 

"  I  don't  expect  to  do  much  experimenting,"  replied 
Roger.  "  But  I've  started  here  and  I'll  keep  on  here, 
especially  since  this  unexpected  mix  up." 

Mrs.  von  Minden,  who  seemed  to  have  been  lost  in 
thought  ever  since  Felicia's  appearance,  now  spoke  sud 
denly,  but  with  closed  eyes. 

"  No,  don't  leave  this  spot.  You  are  destined  to 
great  good  luck  here." 

The  two  men  looked  at  each  other.  Ernest  shrugged 
his  shoulders  and  Roger  sighed  and  asked : 

"  Did  the  pump  come  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  the  hose  and  the  pipe  for  the  condenser. 
We  brought  that  and  the  glass,  the  cement,  more  lum 
ber,  and  the  drum  of  sulphur  dioxide.  There  are  two 
more  big  loads  down  there." 

Roger  nodded.  "  I'll  take  my  turn  at  it  to-morrow. 
Did  you  see  Schmidt?  " 

"  Yes,  and  he  suggested  that  if  we'd  tie  Treble's 
team  to  our  wagon,  he'd  drive  a  load  back  for  us,  so 
only  you  would  need  to  come  in." 

"  We  can't  afford  to  have  Schmidt  come  out  here 
now,"  sighed  Roger. 

"  Let  him  come !  "  murmured  the  visitor,  still  with 
closed  eyes.  "  He  will  be  provided  for.  It's  a  great 
work  and  must  go  on." 


THE  LETTER  FROM  WASHINGTON     139 

Roger  jerked  himself  to  his  feet.  "  Let's  go  out 
side,  Ern,"  he  exclaimed. 

Madam  opened  her  eyes  for  a  moment  to  say,  "  Send 
the  child  in  to  wash  the  dishes !  " 

Ernest  turned  a  chuckle  into  a  hiccough  and  fol 
lowed  Roger  over  to  the  well.  "  Roger,  it  won't  cost 
much  to  keep  him  for  a  week  and  that  provides  for 
getting  Hackett's  team  back  and  stopping  that  ex 
pense." 

Roger  nodded.  "Let's  leave  those  dishes  on  the 
table  till  she  does  'em  or  we  have  to  get  lunch." 

"  O.  K. !  There  she  goes  into  her  tent.  Rog,  she's 
plain  crazy.  Well,  what  do  we  tackle  to-day?  " 

"  We'd  better  get  the  pump  ready  and  then  start  to 
build  the  engine  house.  I  want  it  big  enough  to  in 
clude  the  laboratory." 

"  Right-o  1  Dick  suggested  we  save  lumber  by  mak 
ing  the  engine  house  of  adobe.  He  says  the  sand 
storms  that'll  blow  next  month  will  ruin  our  apparatus 
if  we  don't  cover  it  well." 

"  Where'll  we  get  the  adobe?  "  asked  Roger. 

"  He  said  that  that  layer  of  clay  we  struck  about  four 
feet  down  in  the  well  is  extra  fine  adobe  and  that  he'll 
show  us  how  to  handle  it.  I  wonder  how  long  he'll  be 
sick,  poor  chap !  Was  Dick  ever  sick  this  way  before, 
Felicia?  "  he  called. 

"  Lots  of  times !  "  the  child  called  back.  "  Oh,  Er 
nest,  here's  a  little,  little  bundle  that's  so  soft  it  can't  be 
a  machine.  Can't  I  open  it  ?  It  might  be  for  me." 

"  Go  ahead !  "  replied  Ernest. 

"  If  the  adobe  won't  take  too  long,  I  like  the  idea," 
said  Roger.  "  But  with  our  new  financial  problem, 
we're  working  against  time." 


140  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Oh,  isn't  it  awful.  Nothing  but  dish  cloths  for 
Charley!  "  shrieked  Felicia. 

"  She'll  have  all  the  small  items  in  those  wagons  in 
a  hard  knot,"  exclaimed  Roger.  "  Felicia !  Come  and 
help  unpack  the  pump,  there's  a  good  girl !  " 

When  the  wagon  had  been  unloaded,  the  two  men 
began  the  installation  of  the  pump.  By  noon  they  had 
not  finished  the  job.  Roger  had  infinite  patience  with 
machinery.  Ernest  practically  none. 

"  You'd  have  kicked  the  face  off  any  human  being 
that  acted  as  mulish  as  this  pump,  Rog,"  growled  Er 
nest.  "  Hang  the  thing !  Let's  throw  it  away  and  get 
a  good  one." 

Roger  laughed.  "  And  you'd  have  no  end  of  pa 
tience  with  a  pupil  as  onery  as  this  pump,  Ern.  It's 
all  right.  We'll  have  it  going  in  a  moment." 

And  go  she  did,  to  the  excited  admiration  of  Felicia, 
who  had  been  an  attentive  audience  during  the  entire 
performance.  Mrs.  von  Minden  did  not  leave  the  con 
fines  of  her  tent  until  mid-afternoon,  when  she  spent 
some  time  preparing  herself  a  meal.  After  lunch, 
Ernest  would  have  gone  to  offer  his  services  at  the 
adobe,  had  not  Felicia  protested  to  the  point  of  tears, 
that  Charley  would  be  angry.  Somewhat  to  their  own 
amusement  the  two  men  gave  in  to  the  vehement  small 
girl,  and  the  ground  work  for  the  absorber  being  com 
plete,  they  began  to  clear  space  for  the  engine  house 
and  consumer.  Felicia  with  a  kitchen  knife  and  the 
pancake  turner,  toiled  away  after  the  two  men  all  the 
afternoon. 

About  five  o'clock  Ernest  took  her  home.  He  was 
gone  some  time  and  Roger  had  supper  ready  on  his 
return.  Ernest  had  fed  the  horses  and  milked  for 


THE  LETTER  FROM  WASHINGTON     141 

Charley,  who  said  that  Dick  would  be  around  on  the 
morrow. 

"  Then  I'll  write  my  letter  to-night  and  start  in  with 
the  two  teams  at  daylight,"  said  Roger.  '  You  finish 
grubbing  off  for  the  condenser,  Ernest,  and  make  a 
carpenter's  bench.  And  try  not  to  kill  our  visitor/' 
But  the  visitor  was  invisible  all  the  evening,  nor  had 
she  appeared  before  Roger  left  the  next  morning.  He 
was  well  on  his  way  toward  Archer's  Springs  by  day 
light.  The  wagons  were  empty  and  the  horses  fresh, 
so  that  he  reached  the  railroad  station  by  mid-after 
noon  and  had  the  wagons  loaded  by  dark  ready  for  the 
return  trip. 

At  the  Chinese  restaurant  where  he  went  for  his 
supper  he  saw  Schmidt. 

"Well!"  exclaimed  the  German.  "You  vas  here 
at  last,  nicht  wahr !  " 

Roger  nodded.  "  I  hear  you  are  coming  up  for  a 
visit." 

"  Visit  ?     No !     No !     To  stay.     Ya !     To  stay !  " 

Roger  shook  his  head.  "  Can't  feed  you,  old  man !  " 
and  then,  before  he  knew  it,  he  was  telling  the  sympa 
thetic  German  of  the  Smithsonian's  dereliction. 

"  These  American  governments !  "  groaned  Schmidt. 
"Vat  a  stupidness!  In  Germany  such  a  foolishness 
is  impossible.  Veil,  I  come  for  a  veek  and  bring  my 
own  grub.  I  haf  a  leetle  money,  enough  to  feed  me. 
Vat  I  lack  is  vork  —  vork  to  keep  me  from  going 
crazy  with  the  heim-weh  in  this  ocean  of  sand,  and 
some  one  mit  brain  to  talk  to.  The  baggage-man  — 
the  storekeeper  —  the  Chinaman  —  Gott !  I  know 
their  every  mind  like  a  primer,  so  long  have  I  talked 
to  them." 


H2  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

There  was  to  Roger  something  irresistibly  likeable 
about  Schmidt's  sentimental,  jovial  face. 

"Come  ahead,  then!"  he  said.  "You'll  have  to 
bunk  in  the  cook-tent,  and  bring  your  own  bed  with 
you,  but  we'll  be  delighted  to  have  you  with  us." 

Schmidt  rubbed  his  stubby  hands  together.  "  I  go 
at  vonce  and  pack  up,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Ve  vill  drive 
by  my  place  in  the  morning  and  pick  me  up,"  and  he 
started  for  the  door. 

At  five  o'clock  the  next  morning  the  two  heavily 
laden  wagons  crawled  out  on  the  desert  trail,  camp- 
wards.  It  was  slow  going,  particularly  after  they 
struck  the  deep  sand  which  began  ten  miles  out  of  the 
town.  Gustav  Schmidt  was  rather  silent  when  they 
stopped  at  noon,  to  water  and  feed  their  horses  and  to 
eat  the  lunch  the  Chinaman  had  put  up  for  them.  He 
was  heavily  coated  with  dust  and  his  face  had  burned 
t>adly. 

Half  way  through  the  second  sandwich  he  said: 
"  Ve'll  get  even  with  that  sun,  eh  ?  Ve  harness  him 
and  make  him  pump  vater  on  us  and  on  this  damn 
sand,  eh  ?  Gott,  vat  a  country !  " 

"What's  the  matter  with  this  country?"  asked 
Roger,  blowing  the  sand  off  a  ripe  olive.  "  It's  ex 
actly  the  kind  of  country  I  want  to  make  solar  power 
with  and  it's  exactly  the  kind  of  country  you  want  to 
cure  your  bad  lungs.  If  you  don't  like  it  — " 

"Vait!  Vait!"  interrupted  Schmidt.  "I  know 
vat  you  vill  say.  If  I  don't  like  it,  go  back  to  Ger 
many.  Some  day  I  do  go  back,  but  not  yet.  Ven  I 
go,  I  try  to  take  you  and  young  Wolf  mit  me.  This 
is  the  land  of  nature's  opportunity.  In  the  Fatherland, 


THE  LETTER  FROM  WASHINGTON     143 

the  government  gif  the  opportunity.  This  is  the  land 
for  the  adventure,  for  the  exploitation,  nicht  wahr? 
Germany  the  land  for  the  thinker,  like  you?  Nicht 
wahr?" 

Roger  shook  his  head.  Nevertheless,  his  eyes  were 
wistful.  Many  times  during  the  afternoon  he  thought 
of  Schmidt's  remark.  Roger's  education  and  reading 
had  long  ago  persuaded  him  that  Germany  was  the  land 
for  the  thinker,  that  there  a  man  would  not  have  to 
struggle  for  ten  years  to  give  birth  to  an  idea  such  as 
his.  He  wondered  why  he  never  had  cut  loose  and 
gone  to  the  Fatherland.  Some  subconscious  sense  of 
obligation  to  his  own  country,  he  supposed.  And  yet, 
he  thought  bitterly  what  a  fool  he  had  been!  Surely 
there  could  be  no  passion,  not  even  the  love  for  women, 
as  deep-rooted,  as  overwhelming  and  as  racially  right 
as  a  man's  desire  to  express  his  dreams.  And  that 
expression  was  denied  him  in  his  own  country  unless 
he  put  up  a  fight  that  depleted  his  creative  force,  surely 
by  half. 

He  sighed  heavily  and  yet  his  thoughts  returned  to 
the  little  new  power  plant  with  a  vague  heart  warming 
as  though  already  it  spelled  home  to  him. 

Toward  sundown,  a  curiously  picturesque  group 
passed  them  on  the  trail.  Half  a  dozen  squaws,  with 
bare  black  heads  and  capes  of  red  bandannas  sewed 
together,  were  plodding  toward  town  laden  with  ollas. 
Roger  pulled  up  his  team  and  called  to  them.  Dick 
had  told  him  to  buy  one  of  the  great  Indian  water  jars 
at  his  first  opportunity. 

"  Will  you  sell  me  one  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  oldest  squaw  nodded  and  held  up  a  fine  two 


144  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

gallon  jar.  It  was  just  the  color  of  the  desert  sand 
and  was  ornamented  with  swastikas  and  triangles  in 
lines  of  vivid  black. 

"  How  much  ?  "  asked  Roger. 

"  Eight  bits,"  she  said. 

Roger  dropped  a  dollar  into  her  slender  brown 
palm.  The  squaw  flashed  white  teeth  at  him  and  a 
younger  woman  pressed  forward  holding  up  an  olla  no 
bigger  than  a  teacup,  a  duplicate  in  design  of  the  one  he 
had  just  bought. 

"  I'll  take  that  for  Felicia,"  he  murmured.  "  How 
much?" 

"  Two  bits." 

He  tossed  her  the  quarter.  "  You  make  'em  camp 
up  there?  "  asked  the  old  squaw. 

*  Yes,"  replied  Roger.  "  Come  and  call  on  us, 
ladies." 

"  We  bring  'em  baskets,  maybe,"  replied  the  squaw. 

Roger  nodded  and  started  the  horses  on,  looking 
back  from  time  to  time  for  pure  pleasure  in  the  beauty 
of  those  scarlet  fluttering  capes. 

They  reached  the  camp  about  ten  o'clock  and  were 
vociferously  welcomed  by  Ernest,  who,  before  taking 
the  horses  up  to  the  corral,  insisted  on  showing  them 
his  day's  work. 

"  Nothing  doing  on  the  carpenter's  bench,"  he  said, 
flashing  the  "  lightning  bug  "  toward  the  site  of  the 
engine  house.  "  Look  here.  Dick  came  over  right 
after  breakfast  and  we  were  hard  at  this  all  day." 

All  the  lumber  in  the  camp  had  been  requisitioned  to 
make  adobe  molds.  "  We  mixed  the  adobe  with  that 
clutter  of  broken  hay  that  the  glass  came  in,"  explained 
Ernest.  "  Dick  says  the  Mexicans  use  stable  scrap- 


THE  LETTER  FROM  WASHINGTON     145 

ings,  but  I  couldn't  stomach  that.  You  see  you  just 
peg  the  boards  up  in  the  sand,  a  foot  apart  and  pack 
them  full  of  the  adobe.  That'll  be  the  thickness- of  the 
house.  Then  when  the  strips  are  dried,  we'll  cut  them 
the  length  we  want.  Two  days  more  work  will  give 
us  all  we  need." 

"  Vat  a  country !  "  exclaimed  Gustav. 

Ernest  and  Roger  laughed.  "  I  take  it  Dick  is  O.  K. 
again,"  said  Roger. 

"  Quite  himself.  Said  Charley  was  used  up,  but 
she  came  down  late  this  afternoon  with  Felicia  and  she 
said  she  was  feeling  fine.  Felicia  made  those  little 
bricks  yonder.  Charley  has  put  her  into  overalls. 
She's  simply  ravishing  in  them." 

"  And  how  is  your  guest  ?  "  asked  Roger.  "  I've 
been  telling  Schmidt  about  her.  He's  heard  of  Von 
Minden  at  Archer's.  And  it  seems  she  outfitted  there. 
Claimed  to  have  come  up  from  Phoenix  and  said  she 
had  an  engagement  with  us." 

"  Well,  she  was  invisible,  practically  until  noon  to 
day.  Then  she  brought  her  rocking  chair  here  where 
Dick  and  I  were  at  work  and  concentrated  on  us  all 
the  afternoon." 

"Concentrated?  Vat  iss  concentrated?"  asked 
Gustav. 

"  Well,  she  rocks  in  the  chair,  holding  the  pink  um 
brella  till  Dick  lashed  it  to  the  chair  back  for  her.  She 
keeps  her  eyes  closed  and  doesn't  speak,  though  she  did 
explain  that  she  was  talking  to  her  mother,  who  is  on 
the  seventh  plane,  concerning  the  successful  erection  of 
the  engine  house.  Dick  seems  quite  smitten  by  her. 
He  gazes  on  her  and  gazes  as  if  fascinated,  then  he 
goes  off  behind  the  living  tent  and  laughs." 


146  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  My  God,  what  a  country !  "  groaned  Roger. 

"  I've  got  a  bed  fixed  up  for  you  in  the  cook  tent, 
Schmidt,"  said  Ernest.  "  You'll  be  safe  if  none  of 
Mrs.  von  Minden's  spirit  friends  bother  you.  She 
told  me  that  she  heard  them  playing  the  accordion  in 
the  cook  tent  last  night." 

"  I  love  music,"  was  Schmidt's  response,  and  the 
three  men  went  laughing  to  bed.  Roger  wakened  in 
the  night  but  once.  Through  the  open  tent  flap  he 
beheld  Mrs.  von  Minden  rocking  silently  in  the  star 
light  before  her  tent. 

"  She's  going  to  get  on  my  nerves,"  he  murmured 
and  fell  asleep  again. 

Dawn  was  just  breaking  over  the  mountains  the 
next  morning  when  Roger  entered  the  cook  tent.  He 
was  greeted  by  Gustav,  who  was  purple  with  the  cold 
but  grinning  cheerfully,  and  the  smell  of  coffee. 

"  It  vas  not  so  soft,  sleeping  on  Frau  Nature's  heart 
in  the  desert,  nicht  wahr !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Coyotes 
vere  eating  the  garbage  last  night  mit  gulps  and  snort- 
ings  and  I  slept  not.  It  vas  not  the  music  I  had  been 
promised.  So  I  make  the  breakfast  early." 

"  I  didn't  sleep  well  myself  the  first  night  or  two," 
said  Roger.  "  Desert  silence  makes  a  lot  of  noise  to 
a  town-bred  man.  Hey !  " —  going  to  the  door  — 
"  Ern !  You  lazy  Dutchman !  The  new  cook'll  leave 
if  you  don't  get  up  for  your  breakfast." 

Gustav  and  Roger  were  half  through  the  meal  when 
Ernest  appeared.  "  Mud-pie  making  is  hard  work," 
he  groaned,  sliding  stiffly  onto  the  bench  beside  Roger. 

"  I  certainly  hate  to  make  adobe  brick  when  every 
day  counts  so,"  said  Roger.  "  Let's  use  sheet  iron." 

"  It'll  be  better  to  take  Dick's  advice,"  insisted  Er- 


THE  LETTER  FROM  WASHINGTON     147 

nest.  "  He  says  the  dust  storms  are  frightful  here  and 
the  heat  worse.  The  adobe  shelter  will  be  grateful  on 
many  counts." 

"  Ve'll  all  vork  hard/'  said  Gustav,  "  and  the  'dobe 
vill  be  up  strong,  before  ve  know  it.  Ven  it  is  done, 
it  is  done  good,  and  that  is  right.  I  vash  the  damn 
dishes.  You  go  make  the  mud  mixing.  Then  I 


come." 


"  We're  going  to  hate  to  let  that  chap  go  when  his 
visit's  up,"  said  Roger,  as  he  and  Ernest  began  work 
on  the  adobe. 

"  Maybe  we  won't  have  to  let  him  go,"  replied  Er 
nest.  "  You  stir  the  mess  up,  Rog,  and  I'll  put  it  into 
the  molds.  Dick  is  going  on  with  his  grading,  but 
he'll  be  over  in  a  day  or  so  and  show  us  how  to  begin 
the  house  building." 

"  The  trouble  with  you  is,  Ern,  that  you're  flighty- 
minded.  You're  tired  of  making  a  Sun  Plant  and  all 
excitement  over  building  a  mud  house." 

"  I  wouldn't  have  a  single  track  mind  like  yours  for 
a  million  dollars,"  returned  Ernest  cheerfully. 

Roger  grinned  and  presently  began  to  whistle  as  he 
worked.  Mrs.  von  Minden  proved  to  be  an  exceed 
ingly  unexacting  guest.  After  it  was  evident  to  her 
that  her  hosts  had  not  the  slightest  intention  of  doing 
special  cooking  for  her  she  did  her  own.  She  ate  only 
two  meals  a  day,  preparing  one  at  mid-morning  and 
one  at  sundown.  The  remainder  of  the  day  she  spent 
within  her  tent,  reading  or  rocking  in  her  chair,  concen 
trating  on  the  camp  work.  She  seldom  talked  and 
then  only  on  the  matter  of  what  she  called  Yogi-ism. 

Gustav  took  a  violent  dislike  to  her  and  refused  to 
work  if  she  looked  at  him.  Roger  declared  that  on 


148  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

the  next  trip  to  town  he  was  going  to  telegraph  Phoenix 
and  see  if  she  had  not  escaped  from  an  insane  asylum. 
But  Ernest  only  laughed. 

"  Poor  old  soul !  She's  not  crazy  except  on  her  re 
ligion.  Let  her  alone.  She's  no  expense  and  no 
trouble!" 

"  She  gives  me  the  willies,"  insisted  Roger.  "  I 
never  knew  before  that  I  had  a  temperament." 

"  Gosh,  I  could  have  broken  that  to  you  twenty-five 
years  ago,"  said  Ernest.  "  Only  I  supposed  obvious 
facts  were  as  plain  to  you  as  to  other  people.  Here 
she  comes  for  her  afternoon's  work,  bless  her,  pink 
umbrella,  pink  nighty  and  all.  What  a  lucky  dog  Von 
Minden  is." 

Roger  chuckled  and  joined  Gustav,  who  moved 
hastily  to  continue  his  brick  making  back  of  the  lady's 
chair. 

Working  so,  he  was  facing  the  ranch  and  presently 
he  saw  Charley  cross  the  alfalfa  field  to  join  Dick.  A 
moment  later,  the  two  figures  were  following  the  team 
across  the  field.  Next  Felicia  flashed  down  the  trail, 
a  tiny  dot  of  blue,  and  shortly  he  saw  Dick  lift  her  to 
one  of  the  horse's  backs.  Roger's  mind  harked  back 
to  old  days.  He  recalled  Charley's  father  giving  her 
and  him  just  such  a  ride  over  the  fertile  corn  fields  of 
home.  And  he  pondered  for  a  moment  on  the  thing 
called  fate. 

There  was  a  little  hand  that  clung  to  his  as  he  and 
Charley  scuffled  up  the  dusty  road  to  the  farm.  There 
was  Dick's  ruddy  boyish  face,  sternly  disapproving. 
There  was  a  childish  treble,  "  I  shall  love  Charley. 
She'll  take  such  care  of  me  as  never  was  on  sea  nor 
land.  Aunt  May  says  so."  And  finally  there  was  the 


THE  LETTER  FROM  WASHINGTON     149 

woman's  voice.  "  Go  home  to  bed  now,  or  you  won't 
be  fit  for  work  to-morrow.  And  that  work  is  about 
the  most  important  thing  in  this  valley  now." 

And  now,  Charley  drove  a  team  over  a  desert  field, 
while  he  —  what  was  he  doing  after  all  ?  Roger  rose 
abruptly  and  lighting  his  pipe  began  to  stroll  aimlessly 
around  the  camp.  Was  this  dream  that  had  worked 
itself  into  the  very  fiber  of  his  nature  worth  while? 
The  desert,  shimmering  in  endless  silence  about  him, 
seemed  very  far  from  that  world  of  machinery  that  he 
had  worshiped  so  long.  Supposing  that  Charley  did 
bring  the  desert  to  bearing.  Supposing  that  he  did 
harness  the  sun  and  start  an  empire  to  building  in  these 
barren  wastes.  To  what  avail? 

Though  his  dream  were  the  very  foundation  of  their 
existence,  men  would  fight  here  for  the  supremacy  of 
riches,  just  as  of  old.  And  why  not?  Through  the 
welter  of  cut-throat  striving  man  had  won  his  intelli 
gence.  Who  was  he  to  endeavor  to  lessen  that  com 
petition  ? 

How  restless,  how  discontented  he  had  been  for 
nearly  ten  years !  Was  he  not  missing  the  best  of  life 
and  was  not  happiness  the  real  goal  of  living?  And 
did  not  men  get  the  only  real  joy  from  wife  and  child? 
Did  any  work  that  did  not  focus  round  these  two  bring 
real  content? 

A  sudden  swelling  of  his  heart,  a  sudden  rush  of 
blood  through  his  brain,  a  sudden  thrill  of  his  lean 
strong  body  that  seemed  to  extend  to  the  very  heart  of 
the  desert,  brought  Roger  to  pause  in  his  walking.  He 
gazed  for  a  long  moment  at  the  little  blue  figure  astride 
the  horse,  and  at  the  tall  figure  in  khaki  beside  Dick. 

The  March  afternoon  was  hot  but  with  a  clear  tang 


150  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

that  was  as  exhilarating  as  winter  frost.  The  range 
back  of  the  ranch  house  was  brown  where  the  sky  line 
shone  clear.  But  the  gashed  and  eroded  sides  of  the 
mountains  were  filled  with  drifts  of  purple  clouds  that 
melted  now  in  soft  blue  billows  into  the  sky,  now  in 
ragged  streams  of  crimson  into  canyons  black  in  the 
distance.  The  little  sounds  of  the  camp  were  as  noth 
ing.  The  pygmy  figures  in  the  alfalfa  field  were  in 
finitesimal.  A  new  sense  of  the  immensity  of  the  uni 
verse  poured  into  Roger's  soul  with  devastating  force 
and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  Roger  realized  his  own 
lack  of  importance. 

A  moment  of  this  and  then  the  instinct  that  has  lifted 
man  above  the  brutes  spoke  in  him  again.  He  would 
not  belong  to  life  only  through  children.  He  would 
make  himself  immortal  through  his  work,  work  by 
which  men  should  live  and  think  and  have  their  being 
for  ages  to  come. 

With  a  long  sigh,  Roger  tossed  his  black  hair  back 
from  his  face  and  returned  to  his  brick  making. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   RUNAWAY 

three  men  toiled  arduously  for  two  days  on  the 
brick  making.  At  the  end  of  that  time  the  desert 
all  about  the  camp  was  paved  with  adobe  brick,  baking 
in  the  sun  until  Dick  should  come  to  start  them  on 
their  house  building.  On  the  evening  of  the  second 
day,  Roger  tramped  up  to  the  ranch  house  and  pro 
posed  to  Dick  that  they  exchange  work  for  half  a  day; 
Roger  to  finish  Dick's  grading,  while  Dick  instructed 
Gustav  and  Ernest  in  the  gentle  art  of  adobe  laying. 

But  Dick  would  not  strike  the  bargain.  "  I've  only 
an  hour's  work  before  I'm  ready  to  start  the  seeding," 
he  said,  "  and  I  won't  trust  any  one  to  attend  to  that 
but  myself.  I'll  just  ride  over  to  the  Sun  Plant  in  the 
morning  and  it  won't  take  half  an  hour  to  teach  you 
fellows  all  I  know  about  putting  up  the  house." 

"  I'm  going  too,"  said  Felicia.  She  was  sitting,  cud 
dling  her  doll  before  the  fire,  for  the  nights  were  still 
cool. 

"  Almost  your  bedtime,  Felicia,"  warned  Charley. 

The  child  gave  Roger  an  agonized  look. 

"  I  brought  you  a  present,  Felicia,"  he  said,  an4 
pulled  the  tiny  olla  out  of  his  pocket. 

"Oh,  a  water  jar!  Just  like  yours,  Charley!" 
shrieked  Felicia,  taking  the  little  bowl  carefully  in  her 
slender  childish  fingers.  "  Where  did  you  get  it, 
Roger?" 

151 


152  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Roger  described  his  meeting  with  the  squaws,  and 
Dick  added,  "  The  whole  outfit  is  camping  on  a  canyon 
the  other  side  of  the  range.  Old  Rabbit  Tail  told  me 
this  morning  when  he  brought  down  the  wood.  It's 
there  they  find  the  rock  they  make  these  ollas  of.  It's 
a  kind  of  decomposed  granite.  They  pulverize  it  with 
their  metates,  add  boiling  water  and  get  a  very  fair 
clay.  Qui-tha  is  up  there  with  them  and  his  strong 
medicine  has  made  a  hit." 

"Do  they  make  dishes  cheap,  Dicky?"  asked  Fe 
licia,  crowding  close  to  her  brother's  knee.  "  Would 
they  make  me  some  doll  dishes  cheap,  do  you  think  ?  " 

Dick  lifted  the  little  girl  to  his  knee  and  kissed  her. 
"Why  cheap,  little  old  chick-a-biddy  ?  " 

"  Because  I  heard  you  tell  Charley  funds  were  get 
ting  awful  low  now  you'd  sold  the  last  of  the  tur 
quoise.  But  this  doll  will  starve,  Dicky,  if  she  doesn't 
have  dishes  to  eat  off  of." 

"  She  looks  fairly  well  fed,"  suggested  Charley, 
shaking  her  head  a  little  helplessly  over  the  frank  state 
ment  of  the  family  finances. 

"  She  mustn't  get  run  down,  though,"  said  Dick. 
"  When  I  see  one  of  the  squaws,  I'll  order  some  dishes, 
money  or  no  money." 

"  I  don't  see  v/hy  Aunt  May  didn't  send  along  more 
of  her  toys,"  sighed  Charley.  "  It  was  so  stupid  of 
her !  There  is  nothing  at  Archer's  Springs." 

"  Don't  you  worry,  Charley !  "  cried  Felicia.  "  The 
squaws  will  make  me  some.  I'll  ask  'em." 

"  That's  a  good  sport,"  said  Dick,  hugging  the  child 
against  his  broad  chest.  He  was  Felicia's  devoted 
slave,  and  Charley  had  no  help  from  him  in  maintain 
ing  discipline.  It  was  she  who  said  now : 


THE  RUNAWAY  153 

"  Look  at  the  clock,  Felicia,  dear." 

"  I'd  rather  not,"  answered  Felicia.  Nevertheless, 
she  slid  off  Dick's  lap  and  with  the  doll  and  the  olla 
in  her  arms,  kissed  each  of  the  grown-ups  in  turn,  and 
went  off  to  bed. 

"  She's  the  best  kid  I  ever  saw,"  said  Dick,  after  her 
bedroom  door  had  closed. 

"  And  the  prettiest,"  added  Roger. 

"  You  men  spoil  her,"  protested  Charley,  "  and  it's 
too  bad  because  she  really  is  unusual." 

"  Pshaw !  You  were  just  like  her,"  grunted  Dick, 
"  and  we  all  petted  you.  And  heaven  knows,  you 
aren't  spoiled.  Of  course,  you're  much  too  strict  with 
Felicia  —  and  me." 

Charley  flushed.  "  You  don't  really  think  so,  do 
you,  Dick?  "  she  asked. 

Roger  joined  Dick  in  a  chuckle  at  this.  Charley's 
adoration  of  her  brother  was  obvious  to  the  most  cas 
ual  observer.  She  laughed  a  little  herself  and  it  oc 
curred  to  Roger  that  her  laugh  was  much  like  Felicia's, 
just  as  innocent  and  spontaneous. 

"  I  can  always  get  a  rise  that  way,  eh,  old  girl,"  cried 
Dick.  "  And  I  know  why  you're  blushing.  You  hate 
on  top  of  this,  to  remind  me  that  I  haven't  bedded  the 
horses.  Well,  I'll  attend  to  it  instantly  and  relieve 
your  embarrassment.  I'll  be  back  in  a  moment, 
Roger." 

"  Dick  is  in  good  trim  again,"  said  Roger. 

"  Oh,  I  do  so  hope  he'll  stay  well ! "  exclaimed 
Charley  with  a  sudden  fervor  that  surprised  Roger. 
"  He's  such  a  dear  and  he's  been  so  handicapped !  I 
think  it's  going  to  make  a  big  difference  to  him,  having 
Felicia  and  you  people  here.  He's  been  so  lonely." 


154  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"Haven't  you  been  lonely?"  asked  Roger. 

:<  Yes,"  replied  Charley.  Then  after  a  pause, 
"  How  does  your  work  go?  " 

"Very  slowly!  I  get  half  crazy  with  impatience. 
Even  after  all  the  warnings  I  received,  I  had  no  idea 
of  the  difficulties  in  the  desert.  I  realize  now  that 
I'm  only  about  half  equipped,  for  desert  building." 

'  You  mean  mentally  or  financially  ?  "  asked  Charley 
with  a  quick  look. 

"  Financially,  of  course  —  or  —  what  made  you  ask 
me  that?"  Roger's  voice  was  a  little  indignant. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  answered  Charley,  "  I've  been  in 
the  desert  longer  than  you  and  I  know  that  impatience 
leads  to  madness.  And  you're  an  impatient  sort  of 
person." 

"  Impatient !  "  Roger  burst  out.  "  Impatient ! 
When  for  ten  years  I've  clung  to  one  idea,  hoping 
against  hope,  believing  that  the  impossible  would  hap 
pen." 

"  You  poor  boy !  Don't  you  suppose  I  know  ?  But 
now  that  you're  down  here  at  work,  you've  got  to  be 
even  more  patient.  The  desert  is  cussed  mean.  You 
and  Dick  have  both  got  to  contend  with  the  old  vixen 
for  a  long  time  before  you  put  your  dreams  through." 

"  Don't  you  worry  about  my  impatience,"  replied 
Roger.  "  My  middle  name  is  patience.  You'll  see !  " 

Dick's  cheerful  whistle  came  up  the  trail.  Charley 
looked  at  Roger  as  he  thoughtfully  relighted  his  pipe. 
His  bronze  black  hair  was  ruddy  in  the  firelight, 
Charley  liked  his  hair  and  she  liked  his  square  jaw  and 
deep  gray  eyes,  though  they  seemed  to  her  a  little  cold 
and  selfish  as  were  his  lips.  Charley  had  been  edu 
cated  with  boys  in  the  big  middle  western  town  whither 


THE  RUNAWAY  155 

the  Prebles  had  moved.  From  the  time  that  she  had 
entered  kindergarten  at  four  until  she  graduated  from 
college  at  twenty-two  she  had  buffeted  through  life 
shoulder  to  shoulder  with  boys.  Charley  knew  men 
and  she  had  read  Roger  as  clearly  as  though  his  mind 
were  an  open  book.  She  knew  that  the  desert  would 
either  make  or  ruin  a  man  of  Roger's  temperament. 

Dick  swung  open  the  kitchen  door.  Roger  rose, 
slowly. 

"  You  folks  had  better  have  supper  with  us,  to-mor 
row  night,"  he  suggested. 

The  Prebles  accepted  with  alacrity  and  Roger  wan 
dered  slowly  home  across  the  desert.  He  liked  the 
Prebles,  better  than  he  had  ever  liked  any  family  but 
Ernest's.  Patience!  He'd  show  that  tall,  dark-eyed 
girl  that  his  fund  was  limitless. 

Schmidt  was  worth  two  ordinary  men,  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  he  was  not  in  full  health,  and  that  he  was 
deliberate  in  all  his  movements.  His  deliberation 
meant  that  he  used  his  head  to  guide  his  hands.  What 
with  his  steady  persistent  following  of  Roger's  rapid, 
feverish  energy  and  of  Ernest's  cheerful  conscientious 
poddering,  by  mid-afternoon  the  engine  house  walls 
were  half  finished.  When  Charley,  carrying  a  great 
basket,  reached  them  about  sundown,  the  door  frames 
were  almost  covered  in. 

Ernest  introduced  Schmidt,  who  laughingly  showed 
his  muddy  hands. 

"  I  never  saw  three  people  who  more  evidently 
needed  baths,"  Charley  laughed  in  turn.  "  I  suppose 
Felicia  is  the  worst  of  the  lot.  Where  is  the  child?  " 

"  Felicia !  "  ejaculated  Roger. 

"  She  hasn't  been  here  to-day,"  exclaimed  Ernest. 


156  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Charley  set  the  basket  slowly  down  on  the  sand 
while  her  face  whitened.  "  She  started  down  here  at 
nine  o'clock  with  her  doll  and  her  olla." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  then  Roger  cried 
cheerfully,  "Well,  don't  be  frightened!  Nothing 
could  have  happened  to  her.  She  must  have  gone  on 
an  investigating  trip  of  her  own." 

"  I'll  go  after  Preble,"  said  Ernest,  "  and  we'll  take 
the  horses  and  round  her  up  in  a  jiffy." 

He  and  Gustav  started  immediately  up  the  trail. 
Roger  stopped  long  enough  to  carry  the  heavy  basket 
to  the  cook  tent.  "  Look  out  for  Miss  Preble,  will 
you,  Mrs.  von  Minden  ?  "  he  said  to  that  lady  who  was 
finishing  her  second  meal. 

"  I  must  go  home,"  faltered  Charley.  "  She  may 
—  Roger,  look  in  the  old  Mellish  shaft."  She  gave  a 
little  sob  and  Mrs.  von  Minden  suddenly  put  her  arm 
about  her. 

Roger  started  on  a  run  after  the  others. 

They  overtook  Dick,  just  as  he  was  turning  out  of 
the  lower  end  of  the  alfalfa  field  into  the  trail.  At 
their  shout  he  pulled  up  the  horses  and  waited.  He 
began  to  unharness  before  the  first  sentence  was  fin 
ished.  He  and  Roger  both  mounted,  leaving  Gustav 
and  Ernest  to  go  up  to  the  corral  after  the  other  two 
horses.  Just  at  this  moment  there  came  through  the 
afterglow  a  familiar  treble  shriek. 

"Oh!     Oh!     Dickeee!" 

The  four  men  were  motionless.  Coming  down  the 
trail  from  the  mountains  was  a  little  figure  in  blue 
overalls,  curly  head  glorious  in  the  last  of  the  sunset 
gleam. 

"  Wait  for  me,  Roger,  wait!  "  shrieked  Felicia,  try- 


THE  RUNAWAY  157 

ing  to  quicken  a  very  tired  gait,  and  much  impeded  by 
a  basket,  which  she  clasped  with  both  arms.  Ernest 
suddenly  broke  into  a  run  and  picked  the  child  up, 
basket  and  all.  Dick  dropped  from  his  horse  and 
followed  to  lift  her  away  from  Ernest's  clinging 
arms. 

"  She's  my  sister,  let  me  take  her,"  he  said  hoarsely. 

"  Vere  vas  you,  liebchen  ?  "  asked  Schmidt. 

"  Well,"  said  Felicia,  looking  a  little  bewildered  — 
"  Oh,  Roger  dear,  look  —  the  squaw  gave  me  a  basket 
and  some  eenty  dishes,  just  like  the  olla." 

"Felicia,  where  have  you  been?"  begged  Roger; 
"  tell  us,  honey."  I 

"Why,  I  just  went  over  the  mountain  to  find  the 
place  Dick  told  about  where  the  Indians  make  dishes. 
And  I  got  lost,  and  a  squaw  found  me  and  I  had  a 
funny  dinner  with  her  and  I  bought  these  dishes  and 
I  told  her  Dick  would  pay  for  them  and  I  brought 
you  each  a  present  and  I'm  awful  tired."  She  stopped 
for  lack  of  breath. 

Dick  looked  helplessly  at  the  other  men.  "  It's  five 
mountain  miles  to  that  Indian  camp/'  he  said. 

"  I  got  tired,"  Felicia  nodded  her  head,  "  but  Qui- 
tha  brought  me  home.  He  wanted  some  more  perox 
ide.  So  I  gave  him  the  bottle  in  your  room,  Dicky. 
He  was  so  good  to  bring  me  home.  He  went  right 
back  with  it" 

"  I  wish  I'd  had  a  quart  for  the  good  old  fool,"  said 
Dick. 

"Where  are  you  all  going?  Where's  Charley?" 
asked  Felicia. 

"  She's  nearly  frantic  about  you,"  exclaimed  Roger. 
"  We  were  all  going  to  look  for  you." 


158  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Felicia's  liquid  eyes  widened  with  sudden  under 
standing.  "  Put  me  down,  Dick,  I  want  to  go  to 
Charley/' 

"  Here  she  comes  now,"  said  Ernest. 

Charley  was  breathless  with  running.  Felicia  set 
her  basket  in  the  sand -and  rushed  into  her  sister's 
arms.  The  men  all  started  explaining  at  once. 
Charley,  still  clasping  Felicia,  listened,  then  looked 
down  on  the  curly  head  resting  against  her  heart. 

"  Felicia,  how  could  you  be  so  naughty/'  she  asked 
gently. 

"  Now,  don't  you  scold  her,  Charley,"  protested 
Dick. 

"  Do  I  ever  scold  any  one,  Dick  ?  Only  Felicia  must 
realize  that  she  did  a  very  dangerous  thing  that  she 
must  never,  never  do  again." 

"  How  do  you  mean,  dangerous  ?  "  asked  Felicia. 
"  Did  I  make  you  feel  badly,  Charley?  ' 

"  You  made  me  sick  at  heart  with  fear,  Felicia,"  re 
plied  Charley. 

Felicia  gave  a  great  sob.  "  Oh,  I  wouldn't  do  that 
for  anything ! " 

"  I  move,"  said  Roger,  "  that  we  go  on  over  to  the 
Sun  Plant  and  that  the  two  ladies  talk  this  over  after 
supper.  And  I'll  carry  Felicia  pig-a-back." 

The  motion  was  unanimously  carried.  Ernest  went 
up  to  help  Dick  with  the  chores  and  Roger  and  Gustav 
prepared  supper  while  Charley  sat  on  the  bench  with 
Felicia  in  her  lap,  and  directed  operations.  The  pot 
of  beans  and  the  biscuit  she  had  brought  in  the  basket 
made  the  meal-getting  a  simple  matter.  Mrs.  von 
Minden  was  almost  human,  that  evening.  She  sat 
ivith  the  young  people  during  their  meal  and  for  an 


THE  RUNAWAY  159 

hour  afterward,  once  rising,  unexpectedly,  to  kiss 
Charley. 

Felicia  went  to  sleep  when  half  way  through  supper, 
just  after  she  had  given  Roger  his  present. 

"  It's  a  little  clock,"  she  said,  holding  out  a  small 
steam  gauge,  rusty  and  battered.  "  I  found  it  in  one 
of  the  sheds  up  on  the  mountain,  where  I  stopped  to 
rest." 

Roger  looked  at  it  curiously.  "  That  was  an  expen 
sive  gauge  in  its  day,"  he  said.  "  How  do  you  sup 
pose  she  happened  to  find  it  ? " 

"  Harder  not  to  find  it,"  replied  Dick.  "  The 
ranges  are  full  of  deserted  mines.  They  took  out  all 
the  free  gold,  then  tried  to  work  out  the  rest,  found  it 
too  expensive,  went  broke  and  walked  out.  There's 
enough  fine  machinery  up  in  the  mountains  to  make 
you  believe  what  folks  say  around  here,  that  more 
money  goes  into  the  ground  than  ever  comes  out  of  it." 

Roger  looked  at  Dick  thoughtfully.  "  I'm  glad  to 
know  that,"  he  said.  "  Felicia's  given  me  a  sure- 
enough  present,  haven't  you,  little  girl  ?  " 

But  Felicia,  her  head  burrowed  against  Dick's  will 
ing  shoulder  was  fast  asleep. 

"When  do  you  expect  to  cut  your  first  crop, 
Dick?  "  asked  Ernest. 

"  If  the  alfalfa  gets  a  toe  hold  before  the  first  of 
May  I'll  get  a  crop  this  summer.  The  dust  storms 
don't  begin  till  May.  They  all  blow  down  from  the 
north  or  west  and  I'm  sure  that  that  draw  between 
here  and  the  field  will  protect  me.  I  shall  start  cotton- 
woods  and  arrow-weed  wind  breaks  as  soon  as  I  turn 
the  water  in.  Hackett  is  getting  some  young  trees  for 


i6o  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Isn't  farming  a  terrible  thing  —  terrible,"  said 
Mrs.  von  Minden  suddenly.  Then  she  closed  her  eyes 
and  began  to  speak  rapidly.  "  When  we  first  came  out 
here  Otto  wanted  me  to  run  a  ranch  for  him  while  he 
did  his  other  work.  I  was  so  innocent  and  so  ignorant 
that  I  let  him  start  me  at  it, 

"  In  the  Colorado  river  bottoms  it  was,  below  Fort 
Mohave.  A  group  of  fools  like  me  thought  to  grow 
alfalfa  in  the  bottom  land,  and  dike  the  fields  to  keep 
the  Colorado  out  at  flood.  Covered  with  arrow-weed, 
six  and  eight  feet  tall,  the  land  was,  when  we  got  there. 
But  the  dikes  were  finished  and  some  of  the  folks  were 
beginning  to  clear  the  land. 

"  Otto  cut  enough  arrow  weed  to  put  the  tent  up 
and  then  he  found  that  he  must  put  our  bed  high  on  a 
platform,  the  rattlesnakes  were  so  thick.  This  done, 
he  left  me  some  money  and  told  me  to  get  an  Indian 
to  help  me  and  off  he  went  on  one  of  his  prospecting 
trips.  I  used  to  lie  at  night  staring  at  the  sky  and 
crying  with  fear,  fear  of  Otto  and  fear  of  the  snakes 
that  rattled  and  whirred  all  night. 

"  I  found  an  Indian  and  he  and  I  cleared  about  five 
acres  of  land  and  got  the  seed  in.  But  the  water  used 
to  run  out  of  my  mouth  every  minute  with  the  snake 
fear.  Then  one  night  a  rattler  got  one  of  our  horses 
and  my  fear  of  what  Otto  would  say  if  the  other  was 
bitten  was  greater  than  my  fear  of  the  snakes,  and  one 
night,  while  I  watched  beside  the  remaining  horse,  I 
killed  a  rattler.  I  waited  for  him  to  coil,  then  as  I  had 
seen  the  others  do,  I  brought  the  butt  end  of  an  arrow- 
weed  down  on  the  coils  and  my  fear  of  snakes  was 
gone. 

"  Food  was  hard  to  get.     There  were  only  eight  of 


THE  RUNAWAY  161 

us  there.  And  as  it  got  hot,  some  of  them  left.  By 
the  time  we  were  expecting  the  river  to  rise  in  spring 
flood,  there  were  only  three  fools  in  the  colony.  And 
I  seldom  saw  the  other  two.  There  was  a  hundred 
acres  of  arrow-weed  between  them  and  me.  My  In 
dian  left,  after  the  crop  came  up.  So  I  was  all  alone 
when  the  flood  came.  The  first  day  my  dikes  began 
to  leak.  For  eighteen  hours  I  toted  adobe  to  mend 
them  with.  When  my  strength  gave  out  the  water 
was  two  feet  deep  over  my  little  field.  My  baby  came 
that  night,  much  too  soon.  I'd  have  died  just  as  it  did, 
if  my  Indian  with  a  squaw  hadn't  happened  back  to  beg 
for  food.  They  took  me  over  to  the  California  side 
in  their  flat  boat,  and  I  never  went  back  to  the  ranch 
again,  though  Otto  tried  to  make  me." 

There  was  silence  for  a  time.  Mrs.  von  Minden, 
eyes  still  closed,  seemed  to  be  concentrating.  Sud 
denly  Charley  leaned  forward  to  say  a  little  huskily, 

"  But  why  are  you  going  back  to  him,  Mrs.  von 
Minden  ?"  " 

"  I  have  a  message  for  him  from  the  Yogis," 

"  I  know  him  pretty  well,"  Charley  went  on,  care 
fully,  "  and  he's  been  very  kind  to  me.  But  he's  never 
mentioned  you.  He's  quick  and  queer,  he's  been  alone 
so  much,  and  very  quick  with  his  gun." 

"  He  won't  touch  me,"  answered  Mrs.  von  Minden. 
"  Hejs  afraid  of  me,  the  German  bully." 

"  Tut,  madam,  tut !  "  exclaimed  Gustav.  "  Ger 
mans  no  more  mistreat  their  vomen  than  other  peo 
ples." 

Madam  opened  her  eyes.  "  Tell  that  to  some  one 
who  hasn't  been  married  to  one." 

"  There  are  brutes   in   all   nations,"   said   Ernest. 


i62  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  You  certainly  have  had  more  than  your  share  of 
trouble." 

"  Hah !  "  the  gaunt  face  in  the  rocking  chair  was 
scornful,  "  I  merely  told  you  my  ranching  experience. 
I've  mined  with  Otto,  too,  and  prospected  and  herded 
sheep  and  cattle  and  run  a  boarding  house." 

"  Mrs.  von  Minden,  you  can't  be  very  comfortable 
in  this  rough  camp/'  pleaded  Charley.  "  Do  come  up 
to  my  comfortable  house.  I'd  love  to  have  a  woman 
visitor." 

"  You're  very  kind,  my  child,  but  I  must  stay  here. 
I've  been  so  ordered." 

"  We'd  better  be  starting  back,  Charley,"  suggested 
Dick.  "  Felicia  is  getting  sounder  asleep  every  min 
ute." 

And  so  the  party  ended. 

The  erection  of  the  engine  house  went  on  briskly. 
Before  even  Roger's  impatience  could  have  demanded 
it,  the  sheet  iron  roof  was  on  and  Schmidt  began  to 
putter  with  the  doors  and  windows.  The  completed 
building  was  not  unpicturesque.  The  dull  yellow-gray 
walls  were  topped  by  a  roof  of  red  corrugated  iron, 
with  deeply  projecting  eaves. 

Roger  had  bought  the  sheet  iron  from  Dick,  who 
had  used  considerable  of  this  material  in  the  buildings 
round  his  turquoise  mine.  Ernest  and  Gustav  toiled 
up  to  the  mine  one  morning  and  at  night  returned  with 
a  good  supply  of  the  sheet  iron.  Roger  made  a  con 
crete  base  for  the  engine,  at  one  end  of  the  building. 
Gustav  made  two  doors,  one  for  either  end,  by  nail 
ing  the  corrugated  iron  onto  a  wooden  frame.  A  work 
bench  and  shelves  erected  by  Ernest  completed  the 


THE  RUNAWAY  163 

work  on  the  engine  house  except  for  the  hanging  of  the 
doors. 

The  three  workmen  were  pleased  with  their  job  and 
sat  contemplating  it  in  great  contentment,  one  evening 
after  supper. 

"  The  engine  should  be  here  next  month/'  said 
Roger. 

"  That  is  to  be  of  your  design?  "  asked  Gustav. 

Roger  nodded.  "  The  Dean  of  our  old  college  is 
getting  it  made  for  us.  He  began  work  on  it  as  soon 
as  we  closed  the  deal  with  Austin.  If  he  doesn't  hustle 
we'll  be  ready  for  it  before  he  is.  We'll  begin  work  on 
the  absorber,  to-morrow." 

"  I  must  uphang  my  door  to-morrow,"  said  Gustav. 
"  Vat  place  did  you  put  the  hinges?  " 

"  Hinges!  By  Jove,  we  haven't  a  hinge  to  our 
names !  "  exclaimed  Ernest.  "  Dick  will  have  to  help 
us  out  again." 

But  for  once  Dick  failed  them.  "  It's  too  bad,"  he 
told  Ernest  the  next  day,  "  but  I've  been  meaning  to 
get  hinges  every  time  I've  gone  to  town.  But  I  forgot. 
You'll  have  to  use  some  stout  leather,  the  way  I  do." 

"  Well,  let  me  have  some  leather,  then,"  begged 
Ernest. 

"  Sorry,  old  chap,  but  there's  not  a  scrap  of  leather 
an  inch  long  around  this  place.  You  see  I  sole  Char 
ley's  and  my  shoes,  and  I've  robbed  all  the  mines 
around  here  of  belting  to  do  it  with  and  that  doesn't 
mean  that  I've  had  much  belting  either.  Lots  of  other 
people  have  had  the  same  idea  I've  had.  But  take  a 
day  off  and  go  up  to  the  Sun's  Luck,  five  miles  up  that 
trail  yonder  and  I  think  you'll  find  a  few  pieces." 

Ernest  groaned,   then   laughed.     "  Dick,   poor  old 


164  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Roger  will  faint  at  the  idea  of  more  delay,  and  for 
hinges!  We'd  better  let  the  doors  go  till  some  of  us 
go  into  Archer's." 

Dick  shook  his  head.  "  Ern,  you  get  those  doors 
up,  and  up  right.  I'm  betting  on  there  not  being  a  real 
sand  storm  for  six  weeks  yet,  but  if  one  should  come, 
and  you  have  any  delicate  apparatus  in  the  engine 
house,  you'll  regret  not  having  sand  proof  doors  and 
windows.  And  to  tell  the  truth,  Charley  and  Felicia 
are  both  nearly  bare  foot." 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Ernest,  "  and  Rog  is  too." 

"  What's  a  day  in  the  desert?  "  laughed  Dick.  "  Go 
on  and  bring  down  some  leather  for  the  crowd,  Ern." 

And  go  he  did,  although  Roger  protested  until  Er 
nest  mentioned  the  matter  of  Charley's  and  Felicia's 
shoes.  Then  he  gave  a  ready  consent.  Ernest  re 
turned  by  mid-afternoon  with  perhaps  a  yard  of  belt 
ing,  the  half  of  which  he  gave  to  Dick,  much  to  that 
hard  worked  gentleman's  delight. 

The  days  passed  swiftly.  Ernest  was  less  home 
sick  after  Schmidt's  arrival  and  the  intelligent  Ger 
man's  industry  and  interest  in  the  work  completely 
won  Roger's  heart.  When  the  week  of  his  visit  was 
up,  Roger  resolved  that  he  would  find  a  way  to  feed 
three  instead  of  two  if  he  had  to  start  the  camp  to 
eating  desert  mice.  He  wrote  now  to  the  Dean,  ask 
ing  him  to  sell  his  laboratory  equipment.  Dick  took 
the  letter  to  town. 

The  absorber  was  not  as  ambitious  a  structure  as  the 
engine  house.  Nevertheless,  it  took  twice  as  long  to 
build  as  Roger  had  thought  it  would.  The  founda 
tions  consisted  of  a  shallow  trough  raised  from  the 
ground  on  four  by  four  supports.  It  covered  several 


THE  RUNAWAY  165 

hundred  square  feet  and  sloped  very  gently  to  carry  the 
flow  of  oil.  It  was  covered  with  double  layers  of  win 
dow  sash.  The  task  of  laying  this  was  considerable 
and  in  spite  of  the  men's  best  efforts,  the  breakage  was 
large  enough  to  use  up  practically  all  the  reserve  glass. 
But  the  most  trying  task  of  all  was  that  of  making  the 
great  trough  leak  proof  with  asphaltum.  Even  after 
the  rest  of  the  job  was  done  and  the  huge  cold  frame 
lay  gleaming  mightily  in  the  desert  sun,  the  men  still 
puttered  with  leaks  in  the  trough,  which  they  tested  by 
pouring  water  over  in  lieu  of  the  oil  which  would  ulti 
mately  form  the  flow. 

Roger  and  Ernest  were  at  work  on  this  task  one 
morning  when  Gustav  returned  with  a  barrel  of  water 
from  the  ranch.  Before  driving  back  with  the  team  he 
came  excitedly  round  the  corner  of  the  engine  house. 

"  The  alfalfa  vas  up  already!  "  he  shouted.  "  A  lit 
tle  shadow  of  green  on  yellow  sand.  Lieber  Gott!  vat 
a  country!  And  the  kleine  Felicia  almost  eating  it 
like  a  little  rabbit.  And  Dick  talks  like  it  vas  golt. 
And  he  vas  vorried.  He  says  a  sand  storm  vas  com 
ing  to-day.  Look !  " 

Gustav  pointed  down  the  valley  to  the  south.  A 
gray  blue  haze,  not  unlike  a  sea  fog,  was  slowly  ad 
vancing. 

"  Fasten  up  the  tents.  I  go  back  mit  the  horses/' 
said  Gustav,  disappearing  as  abruptly  as  he  had  ar 
rived. 

"If  any  one  thinks  a  little  thing  like  a  sand  storm 
can  stop  work  on  the  plant,  he's  mistaken,"  grunted 
Roger.  "  Anyhow  Dick  said  one  wasn't  due  for  six 
weeks.'' 

Ernest  looked  from  the  approaching  gray  cloud  to 


166  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Roger's  obstinate  mouth,  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
daubed  another  brush  full  of  hot  asphaltum  over  a 
crack. 

Suddenly  a  hot  blast  of  air  took  their  hats  off.  The 
tent  gave  a  boom.  The  window-sash  resting  against 
the  engine  house  wall  fell  with  a  tinkling  crack.  With 
out  a  word  the  two  men  ran  to  close  the  tent.  When 
they  had  finished,  the  whole  world  was  a  swirling  dust 
cloud  through  which  they  could  not  perceive  each  other 
when  ten  feet  apart. 

"  Make  for  the  engine  house ! "  roared  Ernest. 
"  I'll  fetch  the  old  lady." 

He  was  better  than  his  word  for  he  brought  not  only 
the  madam,  but  her  rocking  chair  and  a  book.  Cer 
tainly  no  one  could  have  accused  their  visitor  of  being 
a  trial.  She  took  the  storm  with  the  utmost  philoso 
phy  and  spoke  scarcely  a  hundred  words  until  the  storm 
was  over. 

When  he  had  stowed  Mrs.  von  Minden  and  her 
rocker  inside  Ernest  slammed  the  door  shut  and  turned 
the  button.  "If  Gustav  tries  to  get  back  through  this, 
he'll  lose  his  way,  without  fail,"  said  Roger. 

"  How  long  do  you  suppose  it'll  last?  "  asked  Ernest. 

({ The  Lord  knows !  Have  you  got  any  tobacco 
with  you?"  Roger  sat  down  on  a  box  of  window 
glass  and  took  out  his  pipe.  For  half  an  hour  they  sat 
listening  to  the  howl  of  the  wind  while  Madam  read. 

"  Evidently  it  doesn't  intend  to  quit  for  a  while/' 
said  Roger  finally.  "  Guess  I'll  make  up  my  diary  and 
write  some  letters.  I  understand  now  why  Dick  was 
so  insistent  on  this  adobe.  You  take  a  look  at  the 
cook  tent  and  I'll  see  if  the  house  tent  is  still  stand 
ing  while  I  get  some  paper." 


THE  RUNAWAY  167 

The  wind  increased  in  violence  until  long  past  noon. 
They  retrieved  some  canned  stuff  from  the  kitchen  tent 
and  ate  it  with  their  mouths  full  of  the  sand  that  sifted 
through  the  cracks  of  the  doors  and  windows. 
Madam  satisfied  herself  with  crackers.  It  was  very 
hot,  even  in  the  adobe.  About  three  o'clock  Roger 
wiped  the  sweat  out  of  his  eyes  and  paused — pipe 
poised : 

"  It's  letting  up,  Ern,"  he  said. 

Ernest  paused  to  listen.  There  was  a  perceptible 
lull  in  the  uproar,  and  the  lull  increased  until  at  five 
o'clock  they  emerged  from  their  shelter.  The  air  had 
miraculously  cleared.  The  sky  was  a  deep,  rich  violet 
and  the  desert,  lighted  by  the  westering  sun,  was  a 
beaten  gold  and  remodeled  to  unfamiliar  lines.  Well 
known  cat's-claw  and  cactus  clumps  had  disappeared. 
A  sand  drift  a  foot  in  length  covered  the  well  curb. 
A  drift  that  touched  the  thatch  lay  against  the  east  side 
of  the  cook  tent  and  had  spilled  within,  half  burying 
the  tables  and  benches.  Within  the  living  tent,  sand 
lay  thick  on  trunks  and  cots.  But  the  tents  had  with 
stood  the  day's  siege,  stolidly. 

"  Let's  look  at  the  absorber,"  said  Roger,  gloomily. 

They  plowed  through  a  great  billow  of  sand  at  the 
end  of  the  engine  house.  Ernest  groaned.  Two  of 
the  four  by  fours  at  the  end  of  the  great  trough  had 
been  undermined  and  had  collapsed,  carrying  a  great 
part  of  the  trough  with  it.  The  exposed  part  of  the 
trough  was  filled  with  an  indiscriminate  mixture  of 
sand  and  asphaltum. 

"  My  God !     What  a  country !  "  cried  Ernest. 

"  My  God !  What  a  pair  of  fools,"  returned  Roger. 
"  After  all  Dick's  warnings,  why  didn't  we  build  for 


168  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

sand  storms!  Lend  me  a  hand  here,  Ern,  with  this 
four  by  four.  My  word!  Where's  Dick  going? 
Hey,  Dick!  What's  your  hurry?  " 

He  might  as  well  have  hailed  the  setting  sun.  Dick 
driving  his  own  team,  Hackett's  hitched  to  his  wagon 
tail,  whirled  by  at  a  gallop. 

Roger  and  Ernest  stood  gaping,  first  at  the  receding 
puff  of  dust  on  the  Archer's  Springs  trail,  then  at  each 
other. 

"  Something's  wrong  at  the  ranch !  "  exclaimed 
Roger  finally. 

Ernest  nodded  and  they  both  turned  to  stare  toward 
the  ranch  house.  As  they  stood  scowling  into  the 
blinding  desert  light,  a  little  gray  burro  rounded  the 
corner  of  the  cook  tent,  and  a  moment  later  Crazy 
Dutch  appeared. 

"  We  need  a  traffic  policeman  in  this  desert,"  said 
Ernest  solemnly.  "  There's  too  much  passing  at  this 
corner." 

"  Get  your  gun,  quick,  Ern.  It's  Von  Minden," 
cried  Roger. 

Ernest  obeyed  hurriedly.  But  the  visitor  shot  his 
arms  even  more  hurriedly  into  the  air. 

"  Don't  shoot !  "  he  cried.  "  My  gun's  strapped  on 
Peter.  I  came  to  make  apologies.  Search  Peter  and 
me." 

"  I  certainly  will,"  said  Roger,  starting  to  suit  ac 
tion  to  word,  as  Ernest  came  running  back  with  his 
shot  gun.  But  he  was  interrupted.  Mrs.  von  Minden 
came  slowly  forth  from  her  tent,  the  broom  in  her 
hand  with  which  she  had  been  sweeping  the  sand  drifts 
from  her  bed  and  floor. 

"  Gott  im  Himmel !  "  roared  Crazy  Dutch. 


THE  RUNAWAY  169 

"  He  cannot  hear  such  as  you."  Madam's  tone  was 
grim,  as  she  advanced  majestically. 

She  was  a  good  foot  taller  than  her  husband,  but 
he  did  not  flinch,  even  at  sight  of  the  broom. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here?  "  he  took  a  threatening 
step  toward  her. 

"  I  was  waiting  for  you,  Otto/' 

"  Well,  I  don't  want  you.  I  finished  with  you  a 
good  many  years  ago.  There  are  just  two  things  in 
my  life  now  and  they  are  my  work  and  my  empexor." 

"  Fudge !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  von  Minden,  unexpect 
edly.  "  There's  just  two  things  in  your  life,  just  as 
there's  always  been,  your  work  and  your  German  cus- 
sedness.  Otto,  I  want  that  strong  box  of  yours. 
Give  it  to  me  and  I'll  go  back  to  Phcenix." 

Crazy  Dutch  gave  an  ugly  laugh.  "  I'm  likely  to  do 
that !  What  do  you  want  of  it  ?  " 

"  If  you  won't  let  me  take  it,  let  me  go  through  it. 
There  is  something  in  it  I  want." 

"  And  what  is  that?  "  queried  her  husband. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Madam,  very  simply. 

"You  don't  know?"  roared  Crazy  Dutch. 

"  No,  Otto,  I  don't  know.  The  Yogis  told  me  to 
come  up  and  they  told  me  that  when  I  went  through 
the  papers  I  would  recognize  some  that  I  wanted." 

Von  Minden  turned  appealingly  to  Roger  and  Er 
nest.  "  Have  you  any  idea  what  she's  talking  about  ?  " 

Ernest  shook  his  head. 

:*  Wouldn't  you  like  to  go  into  the  engine  house  to 
talk  this  over  ?  "  suggested  Roger.  "  You'd  have  priv 
acy  there." 

"  Don't  leave  me  alone  with  him,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
von  Minden.  "  He's  not  safe." 


170  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  All  right,"  said  Roger.  "  I've  searched  him  and 
now  I'm  going  through  his  pack,  and  I  shall  confiscate 
any  weapon  I  find." 

"  Don't  you  dare  to  give  her  my  strong  box," 
shouted  Crazy  Dutch. 

"  I'll  put  the  box  back  where  I  find  it,"  replied 
Roger.  "  Come  on,  Ern,  begin." 

It  was  a  pitifully  mean  little  pack,  quite  poverty 
stricken  compared  with  Mrs.  von  Minden's.  A  woolen 
quilt  and  a  Navajo,  a  coffee  pot,  frying  pan  and  a  small 
sack  of  sugar,  a  canteen,  a  flannel  shirt  and  a  pair  of 
ragged  socks,  a  gun,  a  small  strong  box,  with  a  geo 
logical  hammer,  a  barometer  and  a  compass,  comprised 
Peter's  load. 

Roger  took  the  gun  into  the  living  tent  and  Ernest 
remade  the  pack.  During  the  search,  Mrs.  von  Min- 
den  had  not  spoken,  though  she  eyed  the  work  with 
keenest  interest. 

"  Now,"  said  Roger,  "  I  will  tell  you  both  frankly 
that  I  don't  care  to  have  a  family  row  carried  on  in 
this  camp." 

"  I'm  not  trying  to  row,  certainly,"  exclaimed  von 
Minden.  "  It's  all  this  woman." 

"  The  woman  is  your  wife,  isn't  she?  "  asked  Ernest. 

"  In  name  only.  I  tell  you  I  finished  with  women, 
years  ago." 

"  But  I  haven't  finished  with  you  yet,"  commented 
his  wife. 

"  What  can  you  do  to  me?  "  sneered  Crazy  Dutch. 

"  I  can  do  what  They  tell  me.  And  They  tell  me  to 
hang  on  to  you  like  grim  death  until  They  bid  me 
stop.  I  shall  follow  you  and  that  strong  box  to  the 
end  of  the  earth,  Otto!" 


THE  RUNAWAY  171 

"  But  why !  But  why !  You've  always  been  glad 
enough  to  be  rid  of  me  before." 

Mrs.  von  Minden,  her  pink  sunbonnet  pushed  back 
to  her  shoulders,  her  eyes  gleaming,  took  a  menacing 
step  toward  her  husband,  and  her  voice  rose  hysteri 
cally. 

"  I  know  you !  I  know  you !  With  your  sneaking 
ways  and  your  secret  letters.  I  know  that  you're  a 
dirty  German  spy.  I  know  what  that  box  holds.  But 
what  I  want  out  of  it  is  my  marriage  certificate  and 
whatever  else  They  tell  me.  I  can't  read  German  and 
They  can.  I  can't  throw  fear  into  your  black  heart 
but  They  can.  And  if  I  told  you  the  way  They  have 
interpreted  some  of  your  acts  to  me,  you  would  crawl 
on  your  hands  and  knees  to  me." 

Von  Minden  watched  the  woman  with  a  stolid  face. 
"  Who  are  They  ?  "  he  growled. 

"  They  are  the  spirits  of  the  dead.  The  great  ones 
of  the  Universe  are  talking  to  me  now,  Otto  von  Min 
den!  They  directed  me  here.  The  hand  of  Fate  is 
in  it.  Listen !  You  have  not  long  to  live,  Otto.  And 
all  that  you  have  lived  for  will  be  dust  and  ashes.  All 
the  work  that  you  have  done  will  be  cast  to  the  four 
winds  of  Heaven,  while  this  man,"  pointing  to  Roger, 
"  will  found  your  empire  for  you.  You  have  planted 
in  intrigue  and  you  will  die  in  shame.  Otto,  let  me  go 
through  the  strong  box." 

"  Clarissa,"  exclaimed  Von  Minden,  with  for  the  first 
time  a  note  of  pity  in  his  voice,  "  you've  gone  crazy." 

His  wife  smiled  sardonically.  "  I'm  going  to  see 
what  is  in  the  strong  box,  if  I  follow  you  to  China," 
and  with  this  she  turned  on  her  heel  and  disappeared 
into  her  tent.  Nor  did  she  come  out  again  that  night. 


172  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Now,  Mr.  von  Minden,"  said  Roger  sternly.  "  I 
tell  you  quite  frankly,  that  you're  not  welcome  here. 
If  Miss  Preble  hadn't  interceded  for  you,  I'd  hand  you 
over  to  the  authorities." 

Crazy  Dutch  nodded  affably.  "  You're  quite  right. 
I  deserve  it.  But  I've  had  a  touch  of  the  sun  and  for 
a  moment  I  was  out  of  my  head.  In  this  lonely  coun 
try  we  must  bear  with  each  other." 

"  The  way  you  bear  with  your  wife,  I  suppose,"  sug 
gested  Ernest. 

Von  Minden  looked  half  apprehensively  over  his 
shoulder  at  his  wife's  tent,  then  he  said  in  a  confiden 
tial  whisper,  "  Now  she  is  crazy  and  has  been  for  years. 
Only  she's  crazy  all  the  time  so  the  only  thing  to  do  is 
to  keep  away  from  her.  She  was  a  very  good,  hard 
working  woman,  once." 

"  So  I  should  judge  from  what  she  tells  us,"  Roger's 
voice  was  grim.  "  It  strikes  us  that  you  treated  her 
as  if  she  were  a  horse  and  not  a  woman.  But  that's 
not  our  business.  Why  did  you  come  back  here,  Von 
Minden?" 

"  I  came  to  apologize." 

"  Well,  I  accept  the  apology.  Now  you  had  better 
go  on  about  your  business  and  I'll  get  your  wife  back 
to  Phoenix,  some  way." 

Von  Minden  drew  himself  up.  "  I  beg  your  par 
don,  Mr.  Moore,  I'm  not  in  the  habit  of  being  spoken 
to  in  this  manner.  Apologize  at  once !  " 

Roger  turned  red.  "  Why  you  infernal  little 
shrimp  —  "  he  began. 

But  Ernest  interrupted.  "  Keep  your  temper,  Rog. 
All  this  isn't  worth  seeing  red  for." 

"  Of  course  it  isn't,"  said  the  little  German  briskly. 


THE  RUNAWAY  173 

"  Now  I'm  planning  to  spend  the  evening  with  the 
Prebles  and  then  I'll  go  on  into  the  range.  Peter,  my 
dear,  I'll  give  you  a  drink  now.  We  were  out  in  all 
this  storm,  gentlemen,  but  we  don't  mind  them,  Peter 
and  I.  There  is  a  beauty  about  them,  these  passions 
of  the  desert.  How  are  the  Prebles  ?  " 

The  two  men  started.  "  We  were  going  up  there,'* 
said  Ernest.  "  Dick  just  went  driving  by  at  a  gallop, 
without  a  word,  toward  Archer's  Springs." 

Von  Minden  scowled,  started  to  speak,  was  silent, 
then  said:  "  What  do  you  think  was  the  matter?  " 

"  Let's  go  find  out,"  urged  Ernest. 

The  three  men,  Peter  trailing  at  the  rear,  started 
hurriedly  along  the  half  obliterated  trail  toward  the 
ranch. 

The  stillness  after  the  day  of  warfare  was  heavenly, 
The  violet  of  the  sky  had  changed  to  the  blue  of  lark 
spur,  that  now  was  shot  with  lacey  streamers,  rose  pink 
from  the  setting  sun.  An  oriole,  balancing  itself  on 
Dick's  line  fence,  poured  forth  a  melody  of  transport 
ing  sweetness. 

"  O,  by  Jove !  "  exclaimed  Roger  suddenly,  "  look 
at  Dick's  alfalfa!" 

The  oriole  fluttered  away  as  they  approached  the 
fence.  The  field  had  not  drifted  badly.  The  draw  to 
the  north  had  prevented  that.  But  the  bright  green 
shadow  on  the  yellow  sand  of  which  Gustav  had  told 
them  in  the  morning,  was  no  more.  A  huge  blight 
lay  on  the  field  with  every  tender  plant  blackened  and 
dead. 

"  Poor  old  Dick !  "  groaned  Ernest.  Then  he  added 
plaintively,  "  But  he's  no  tenderfoot.  He  knows 
desert  storms.  Why  did  he  attempt  it?  " 


174  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  A  storm  like  this,  this  time  of  year,  is  unheard 
of,"  said  Von  Minden.  "  Close  to  the  mountain  like 
this,  Dick  was  choosing  a  good  spot.  See  there  are 
few  drifts.  Poor  fellow !  " 

There  were  actual  tears  in  Ernest's  blue  eyes  as  he 
looked  at  the  blackened  field.  "  Let's  get  to  the  girls," 
he  urged. 

At  the  corral  gate  they  met  Gustav. 

"  What's  the  trouble,  Gustav  ?  "  cried  Roger. 

"  Dick  he  vent  to  the  field  down  to  see  how  the 
alfalfa  vas,  then  he  came  running  like  a  mad  man.  He 
scolded  Fraulein  Charley  like  it  vas  her  fault,  then  he 
ran  to  the  corral,  hitched  up  and  vent." 

"  But  didn't  you  try  to  stop  him  ?  "  demanded  Roger. 

"  Not  Fraulein  Charley.  She  just  sat  on  the  step 
and  little  Felicia  on  her  lap  and  say  nothing.  But  I 
vent  to  the  corral  to  talk  to  Dick  and  he  told  me  to  go 
to  hell.  He  vas  a  mad  man,  I  tell  you.  Now  I  go 
milk." 

Charley,  at  the  sound  of  voices,  came  out  to  the 
steps.  "Hello,  Uncle  Otto,"  she  called.  The  men 
looked  up  at  her.  Her  tanned  cheeks  were  flushed, 
her  fine  square  shoulders  were  tense.  But  her  voice 
was  gay: 

"  Have  you  and  Mr.  Moore  had  your  duel  ?  " 

"  It's  postponed,"  replied  Crazy  Dutch. 

Felicia  scrambled  past  her  sister  and  ran  down  to 
Roger:  "Dick  went  away  mad,"  she  exclaimed. 
"  He  scolded  Charley  and  me  awful  and  made  me  cry. 
I  hate  to  cry.  It  hurts  my  insides  so." 

Charley  had  joined  them  now.  "  Poor  Dick!  "  she 
said.  "  That  alfalfa  field  was  dearer  to  him  than  any 
of  you  know.  He'll  cool  down  by  the  time  he  reaches 


THE  RUNAWAY  175 

Archer's  and  brings  back  more  seed.  Why  can't  you 
all  stay  to  supper  here?  " 

"  It's  too  much  trouble  for  you,"  protested  Ernest, 
weakly. 

"You  can  all  help,"  said  Charley.  "Please  all 
stay."  Something  in  the  eagerness  of  her  low  voice 
touched  Roger  as  it  did  the  other  men. 

"  Of  course,  we're  delighted  to  stay,"  he  exclaimed, 
tossing  Felicia  to  his  shoulder.  "  Come  along, 
chicken,  we'll  split  some' wood  for  sister." 

"  And  me,  I  must  wash  myself,"  said  Crazy  Dutch, 
"  and  give  Peter  some  hay." 

"  And  me,  I'll  help  get  the  supper,"  said  Ernest. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  LONELY    HUNTER 

A  S  soon  as  Ernest  and  she  were  alone  in  the  kitchen, 
•**•  Charley  whispered :  "  How  about  Mrs.  von 
Minden?" 

"  Oh,  they  had  a  fine  row.  She  wants  his  strong 
box.  She  said  at  first  that  she  didn't  know  what  she 
wanted  but  later  confessed  that  it  was  her  marriage 
certificate  plus  something  the  Yogis  were  to  put  her 
wise  to." 

"  Poor  old  soul ! "  exclaimed  Charley  softly. 
"  What  tragedy  do  you  suppose  is  back  of  all  this?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  But  none  of  us  urged  the  poor  old 
girl  to  come  up  here  with  us.  He  says  he's  going  to 
spend  the  night  with  you,  but  if  Dick  isn't  here  — 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  Charley.  "  He  stays  here 
often  when  Dick  is  gone.  He  and  I  are  great  friends. 
I  shall  say  nothing  at  all  about  his  wife,  unless  he 
does." 

"  That's  the  best  cue,  I  think,"  agreed  Ernest ;  "  I'm 
so  darned  sorry  about  the  alfalfa,  Charley." 

"  Pioneer  luck,"  replied  the  girl  shaking  her  dark 
head.  "  I  feel  rather  heartsick  about  it  myself.  If 
only  Dick  wouldn't  go  to  pieces  so!  That's  what 
worries  me,  because  we  may  have  many  failures  be 
fore  the  alfalfa  catches  and  he  is  going  to  have  such  a 
hard  time." 

176 


THE  LONELY  HUNTER  177 

"  I  can't  see  why  you  chose  such  a  difficult  part  of 
the  world  to  farm  in,"  mused  Ernest. 

"  That's  where  the  sport  comes  in,"  returned  Charley 
with  a  smile. 

Whatever  discomfort  Dick's  surly  and  erratic  moods 
may  have  cost  her  Charley  gave  no  sign  that  evening 
of  having  any  thought  save  the  comfort  and  enter 
tainment  of  her  guests.  Before  Felicia  had  been  sent 
to  bed  and  after  the  men,  all  smoking,  had  listened  to 
Von  Minden's  dissertation  on  sand  storms,  Charley 
suggested  that  Peter  be  invited  in  and  put  through  his 
paces. 

To  the  surprise  and  delight  of  the  others,  when 
Crazy  Dutch  went  to  the  door  and  whistled,  there  was 
the  sound  of  little  hoof -beats  on  the  porch,  then  Peter's 
gray  head  appeared  enquiringly  in  the  doorway. 

"  Wipe  your  feet  and  come  in,  Peter,"  said  Crazy 
Dutch,  returning  to  his  seat  by  the  fire. 

The  little  donkey  rubbed  one  hoof  after  the  other 
on  the  straw  mat  before  the  sill,  then  advanced  into 
the  room.  Felicia,  who  was  in  Roger's  lap,  trembled 
with  excitement  and  pleasure. 

"  Now,  Peter  dear,  here  is  your  pipe,"  pulling  a 
corncob  from  his  pocket ;  "  sit  down  and  smoke  it  like 
a  gentleman." 

Peter  took  his  pipe  somewhat  gingerly  between  his 
teeth  and  then  with  considerable  difficulty  backed  his 
haunches  down  onto  the  box  that  Von  Minden  kicked 
over  to  him.  There  he  sat  gravely  holding  the  empty 
pipe,  his  long  ears  moving  slowly  back  and  forth. 

"  All  right,  sweetheart,  there's  a  bit  of  sugar  for  you. 
Shake  hands  with  the  ladies  and  gentlemen." 

Like  a  great  gray  dog,  Peter  went  from  one  to  an- 


178  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

other,  lifting  his  tiny  hoof  to  be  shaken.  Felicia  was 
afraid  at  first  but  ended  by  shaking  the  little  unsteadily 
proffered  hoof  and  kissing  the  little  fellow's  dusty 
forehead  with  a  squeal  of  delight. 

"  Now  you  give  us  each  a  good  night  kiss,  liebchen," 
ordered  Von  Minden,  and  as  he  indicated  each  person 
in  turn,  Peter  followed  and  touched  each  one  on  the 
back  of  the  neck,  with  his  velvet  nose. 

"  Now  say  good  night,"  was  the  last  order  and  Peter 
lifted  his  voice  in  a  bray  that  shook  the  very  rafters, 
after  which  he  trotted  out  the  door. 

Certainly  Peter  and  his  master  had  never  played  to 
a  more  enthusiastic  audience.  Felicia  wanted  to  go 
out  and  ride  him  then  and  there  and  Charley  had  to 
use  considerable  persuasion  to  get  the  excited  little 
girl  off  to  bed.  But  after  this  was  accomplished 
Roger  asked : 

"  Where  did  you  get  Peter?     Will  you  sell  him?  " 

Crazy  Dutch  darted  an  ugly  look  at  Roger. 

Charley  cut  in  quickly.  "  Tell  us  where  you  found 
him,  Uncle  Otto.  Mr.  Moore  was  merely  showing 
how  much  he  admired  Peter." 

"  I  thought  he'd  be  so  fine  for  Felicia,"  exclaimed 
Roger. 

Von  Minden  grunted.  Then  he  lighted  his  pipe. 
"  I  have  not  always  been  as  you  see  me  now,"  he  said. 
"  I  was  a  geologist  of  reputation  and  when  my  health 
demanded  a  hot  climate,  it  was  natural  I  should  come 
here  to  look  for  mines  for  a  great  German  company. 
I  am  lucky  and  I  have  brains  and  I  have  the  greatest 
training  in  the  world,  German  training,  so  I  find  several 
mines  and  then  jealousies,  jealousies  —  jealousies  —  " 
he  fell  to  mumbling  to  himself. 


THE  LONELY  HUNTER  179 

Charley  prompted  him.  "  So  you  decided  to  strike 
out  for  yourself,  about  five  years  ago." 

"  Yes,  I  do  so.  By  then,  you  see,  I  had  gotten  to 
understand  the  desert  loneliness.  I  loved  it  and  I  sold 
myself  to  the  desert,  body  and  soul  All  I  asked  was 
to  wander  about  on  her  magnificent  barren  bosom.  It 
seemed  to  me  I  was  entirely  happy.  But  one  day  I 
found  a  little  young  burro  stuck  in  a  crevice  in  a  blind 
canyon.  Evidently  he  had  been  abandoned  by  an 
Indian.  Me,  I  climb  down  in  the  crevice  and  I  tie  his 
heels  so  he  can't  kick  and  with  my  geologist's  pick  and 
hammer  I  work  so  carefully  all  day  till  I  get  him  out. 
Why  such  toil?  Because  I  find  when  I  look  into 
Peter's  deep  eyes  that  I  am  lonely  —  lonely  beyond  the 
power  of  thought  or  word  to  describe.  And  Peter, 
from  that  day  to  this,  has  never  left  me,  day  or  night." 

"You  are  in  excellent  health  again,  Mr.  von  Min- 
den,"  said  Ernest.  "  Don't  you  plan  ever  to  return  to 
the  Vaterland?" 

"  Yes !  Yes !  "  cried  Crazy  Dutch,  "  but  only  when  I 
can  return  with  an  empire  in  my  hand  for  my  Kaiser." 

"  Hoch!  "  said  Gustav  softly,  "  Hoch!  " 

"  Hoch !  "  Roger  and  Ernest  took  up  the  exclama 
tion  with  a  laugh  and  a  wave  of  their  pipes,  and 
Charley  joined  them,  smiling.  Von  Minden  looked 
deeply  pleased. 

"  Yes !  Yes !  "  he  cried.  "  You  all  are  good  chil 
dren,  properly  educated,  ready  to  understand  Germany 
as  the  citizens  of  no  other  country.  You  all  speak 
German  ?  Yes !  And  you  all  know  German  literature 
and  music  to  be  the  best.  Yes,  ah,  these  great  uni 
versities  and  high  schools,  they  are  doing  their  work 
wonderfully." 


i8o  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  If  I  fall  down  all  together  in  getting  my  plant 
funded  in  this  country,  I'm  going  to  Germany  with 
it,"  said  Roger  abruptly. 

"  No,  you  aren't !  "  cried  Charley,  quickly ;  "  I  love 
Germany  too,  but  America  comes  first." 

Ernest  rose  with  a  sigh.  "  That  may  be,  but  with 
me,  bed  comes  first." 

:<  You  will  not  be  cross  the  next  time  we  meet,  eh  ?  " 
asked  Crazy  Dutch  as  the  men  made  their  adieux. 

"  I'll  try  not  to  be !  "  replied  Roger,  not  too  en 
thusiastically. 

When  they  had  crawled  into  their  cots,  an  hour 
later,  Roger  said :  "  Ern,  do  you  realize  that  we 
haven't  a  drop  of  crude  oil  for  the  absorber  flow  ?  " 

"  Sure,  I  do,"  replied  Ernest.  "  I've  been  wonder 
ing  for  days  what  we  would  do  about  it,  but  until  I 
had  a  suggestion,  I  didn't  want  to  bring  the  matter 
up." 

"  How  much  money  do  you  think  the  Dean  can  get 
for  the  laboratory  equipment  ?  "  asked  Roger. 

"  Well,  I  hope  at  least  two  hundred  dollars.  But 
you  know  how  those  things  go." 

"  We'll  have  to  save  every  cent  of  that  for  grub," 
mused  Roger.  "  Dick  told  me  that  over  on  Snake 
Peak  there  is  a  mine  that  closed  down  four  years  ago 
and  that  their  engine  was  an  oil  burner.  He  says 
there  hasn't  been  a  watchman  there  for  a  year. 
There's  a  chance  that  they  have  left  some  oil." 

"  How'll  you  pay  for  it?  "  asked  Ernest. 

"  Pay  for  it !  "  grunted  Roger.  "  Wait  till  I  find 
it,  will  you?  You  and  Gustav  clean  up  after  the  storm 
to-morrow  and  go  on  with  the  absorber.  I'll  take  a 
tramp  up  to  Snake  Peak." 


THE  LONELY  HUNTER  181 

He  was  on  his  way  before  sun-up,  the  next  morning, 
a  canteen  of  water  over  his  shoulder  and  a  lunch  in  his 
pocket.  He  moved  as  rapidly  as  the  heavy  walking 
permitted,  driven  by  a  sense  of  impatience  to  which  he 
gave  no  name.  But  subconsciously  he  realized  that 
forever  behind  that  beauty  of  the  desert  to  which,  like 
Von  Minden,  he  felt  he  might  gladly  sell  himself, 
loomed  the  menace  of  the  desert's  brutality  which  he 
was  not  equipped  to  fight  and  which  he  could  overcome 
only  by  the  extraordinary  precision  and  swiftness  of 
his  work. 

The  sun  was  not  half  an  hour  high  when  Roger 
reached  the  top  of  the  mountain  behind  the  ranch. 
Here  he  gazed  eastward  across  the  low  ranges  to  a 
peak  which  dominated  all  the  crests  around  it,  a  jagged, 
black  and  brown  monster,  its  top  crimson  now  in  the 
morning  glow. 

Roger  stood  breathing  deeply,  hat  in  hand,  the  sun 
turning  his  bronze  hair  red,  his  thin  strong  body  erect 
against  the  morning  sky.  He  could  see  no  trail,  so  he 
determined  to  reach  Snake  Peak  by  a  direct  cross  line. 
The  peak  would  be  lost  to  view  when  he  reached  the 
valley  below  so  he  sighted  a  lonely  cedar  on  the  crest 
of  the  opposite  range  and  began  to  climb  downward. 
It  was  stiff  going.  The  prickly  pear  cactus  and  the 
ollas  grew  thick  and  the  ground  was  covered  with 
broken  rock  that  made  short  work  of  his  already  well- 
worn  shoes. 

When  Roger  reached  the  lonely  cedar  the  sun  was 
two  hours  high.  He  had  thought  to  make  it  in  twenty 
minutes.  He  dropped,  trembling  with  weariness  in 
the  shadow  of  a  little  tree,  drank  deeply  of  the  canteen 
and  gave  himself  ten  minutes  of  rest,  lying  flat  on  his 


182  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

back,  his  eyes  on  the  magnificent  expanse  of  the 
heavens. 

The  ten  minutes  up,  he  crossed  the  narrow  ridge  and 
after  a  moment  found  a  landmark  on  the  opposite  crest, 
a  single  black  rock  against  a  lavender  outcropping. 
Again  he  plunged  into  the  narrow  valley  below  him 
falling,  sliding  and  swearing,  then  scrambling  and 
clambering  with  knee  and  elbow  and  broken  nail,  until 
after  another  hour's  interval,  he  cast  himself  down  on 
the  lavender  outcropping. 

Snake  Peak  was  now  just  across  the  canyon  and  he 
could  see  clearly  the  gray  white  of  the  tailing  dump 
that  marked  the  mine.  It  was  well  after  eleven  when 
in  a  fury  of  impatience  he  reached  his  final  goal. 

The  loneliness  of  the  untouched  wilderness  is  not  so 
great  as  that  of  the  deserted  habitation.  Roger  had 
not  felt  the  desert's  solitude  until  he  dropped  on  a 
bench  outside  the  cook  house  and  began  to  examine 
the  lost  endeavor  about  him.  There  were  bunk  houses 
and  office  buildings,  shaft  and  engine  houses,  aerial 
tramways  and  car  tracks,  all  the  many  and  costly  ap 
purtenances  of  desert  mining.  Sand  lay  thick  over 
everything.  The  silence  was  complete  save  for  the 
flopping  of  the  torn  canvas  that  had  been  fastened 
over  a  hoist. 

A  sense  of  profound  depression  settled  upon  Roger. 
He  dropped  his  head  in  his  hands  with  a  groan.  A 
dream,  vastly  better  financed  than  his  own  had  come 
to  naught  in  the  face  of  the  distances  and  the  difficul 
ties  of  the  desert.  Was  there  any  greater  hell,  he 
wondered  than  to  be  hounded  by  a  creative  desire  for 
which  there  was  no  outlet;  to  have  stored  within  one's 
brain  gifts  indispensable  to  humanity's  best  develop- 


THE  LONELY  HUNTER  183 

ment,  of  which  humanity  would  take  heed  only  after 
the  creator  had  been  crucified  by  desperate  handicaps 
and  indifference. 

As  Roger  brooded,  his  eyes  fell  on  the  engine  house 
and  a  carefully  locked  shed  beside  it.  His  face  bright 
ened.  He  got  stiffly  to  his  feet  and  plodded  up  to  the 
window  of  the  engine  house,  raised  it  and  clambered 
within.  A  great  engine  shrouded  with  greasy  canvas 
lay  in  the  dusky  room.  It  was  a  gas-producer  type, 
in  excellent  condition.  Roger  went  over  it  as  tenderly 
and  eagerly  as  a  horseman  goes  over  a  thoroughbred 
racer.  Then  he  went  through  the  open  door  into  the 
shed  adjoining.  It  was  full  of  oil  drums,  some  of 
them  empty  but  with  a  sufficient  number  filled  to  more 
than  satisfy  Roger's  needs. 

He  suddenly  began  to  whistle  cheerfully,  went  over 
the  engine  again  and  was  still  whistling  when  he 
climbed  out  of  the  window  and  sat  down  on  the  bench 
to  eat  his  lunch.  When  he  had  finished  eating  he 
lighted  his  pipe  and  sat  smoking  at  ease.  Life  was  not 
so  bad,  by  Jove !  One  could  make  the  desert  his  if  one 
had  resourcefulness  and  courage.  As  soon  as  Dick's 
horses  were  rested  after  their  return  from  Archer's 
Springs,  they  must  start  hauling  oil.  Of  course, 
though,  that  beastly  re-seeding  would  have  to  be  done 
first.  Roger's  shoulders  twitched  impatiently  and  he 
started  abruptly  homeward. 

The  sun  had  set,  when  weary  beyond  words,  he 
reached  the  Sun  Plant. 

"Well!  Did  you  run  across  the  Von  Mindens?" 
was  Ernest's  greeting. 

"No!     What's  happened?" 

"  We  don't  know.     The  old  lady  was  so  long  coming 


i&j.  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

out  of  her  tent  that  toward  noon  I  investigated,  to  find 
that  she  was  no  longer  with  us.  I  went  up  to  Prebles' 
and  Charley  reported  that  two  of  the  madam's  burros 
were  missing  this  morning  as  well  as  the  pack  ropes. 
We  think  that  she  hit  out  in  the  night  and  is  trailing 
the  old  boy  up  in  the  ranges.  He  started  off  early, 
serene  in  the  thought  that  she  was  down  here. 
Charley  didn't  mention  the  burros  to  him." 

"  Well,  thank  heaven  for  small  favors !  "  exclaimed 
Roger.  "  She  certainly  got  on  my  nerves." 

"  Did  you  find  oil?  "  asked  Gustav. 

"  Yes,  I  unearthed  a  fine  cache  of  it.  I  wish  you 
folks  could  see  the  outfit  up  there  on  Snake  Peak," 
and  he  told  them  what  he  had  found. 

"  But  you  aren't  going  to  annex  that  oil  until  you 
hear  from  the  owners  ? "  exclaimed  Ernest. 

"  You  write  to  the  owners,  when  we  get  it  here, 
enclosing  a  check  for  the  oil  at  market  rates.  I  may 
have  trouble,  but  I  doubt  it." 

They  were  sitting  as  usual  before  their  tent  smoking 
their  good  night  pipes. 

"  You  will  get  into  trouble,  Rog,"  warned  Ernest. 
"  Impatience  is  all  right  and  good  driving  power,  but 
what's  the  use  of  laying  yourself  open  to  difficul 
ties?" 

"  Don't  be  an  old  maid,  Ern,  with  your  piffling  Ger 
man  conscientiousness.  I  haven't  the  slightest  notion 
of  stealing.  I'll  pay  for  every  drop  of  the  oil  —  " 

"  How  vas  the  road  ?  "  asked  Gustav. 

"  No  road  at  all,"  replied  Roger.  "  I  just  plunged 
through  across  country." 

"  Then,  the  horses,  where  —  " 

"Lord,     that's     right!"     interrupted     Roger.     "I 


THE  LONELY  HUNTER  185 

noticed  that  there  was  a  good  enough  road  leading  out 
of  the  mine  to  the  south  —  toward  Archer's  Springs. 
But  it's  clear  on  the  other  side  of  the  range  and  parallel 
to  this  trail,  of  course.  No  good  to  us  at  all.  Don't 
tell  me  we've  got  to  build  a  road  to  get  that  oil  out. 
My  lord,  what  a  country !  " 

"  Veil,"  said  Gustav,  "  if  it  is  too  hard  to  get  it 
out,  then  you  don't  steal  it,  then  you  don't  break  the 
law,  then  you  don't  get  arrested,  so  that  is  good." 

"  Don't  you  think  I  won't  get  it  out,  if  I  have  to 
pack  it  out  in  a  canteen,"  said  Roger.  "  High  treason, 
arson,  murder  are  nothing  to  stand  between  me  and 
that  cache  of  oil." 

"  You'd  better  swipe  two  teams  of  horses,  Rog,  on 
one  of  your  predatory  expeditions,"  exclaimed  Ernest. 
"  Dick  may  need  his  own  horses  occasionally  this 
spring." 

Roger  rose  and  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe. 
"  I'd  like  to  swipe  that  gas  producer  engine  up  there," 
he  replied  and  went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  IX 

GUSTAV 

TT  was  late  the  next  afternoon  when  Dick  drove 
•*•  slowly  along  the  trail.  The  three  men  were  flat  on 
their  backs  under  the  absorber,  patching  leaks,  when 
they  heard  the  squeak  of  the  wagon  and  the  soft  tread 
of  horses'  hoofs  in  the  sand.  They  made  no  attempt 
to  greet  him. 

The  next  morning,  however,  Roger  plodded  up  to 
the  ranch  house  to  consult  with  Dick  about  the  moving 
of  the  oil.  Although  it  was  close  to  eight  o'clock, 
Dick  was  just  finishing  breakfast.  He  was  cheerful 
and  talkative. 

"  Don't  try  to  use  horses,"  he  urged.  "  There's  old 
Rabbit  Tail  lives  ten  miles  over  the  range.  He's  got 
a  bunch  of  little  wild  burros  and  he  does  packing  for 
the  miners  when  there  is  any.  He'll  pack  that  oil  for 
you." 

Roger  brightened  up,  then  shook  his  head.  "  I 
can't  pay  him.  The  Smithsonian  folks  aren't  coming 
up  to  the  scratch  and  I've  got  to  finish  this  job  without 
funds.  I've  about  twenty-five  dollars  in  hand  and  two 
hundred  more  in  sight.  I  thought  perhaps  I  could  ex 
change  work  with  you.  Help  you  to  re-seed  and  then 
to  increase  your  irrigating  capacity  here." 

"  Gosh,  that's  hard  luck !  "  exclaimed  Dick.  "  Did 
you  hear  that,  Charley,  about  Roger's  money  ?  " 

186 


GUSTAV  187 

Charley,  who  had  been  busy  in  the  kitchen,  came  in 
now  with  a  fresh  cup  of  coffee  for  Roger  in  one  hand 
and  an  extra  chair  in  the  other.  Had  Roger's  mind 
been  less  concentrated  on  the  problem  in  hand  he  might 
have  noted  the  fine  ease  with  which  she  swung  the 
chair  up  to  the  table  for  him  before  either  he  or  Dick 
could  proffer  help.  Charley  was  so  slender  that  one 
did  not  easily  recognize  the  splendid  strength  she  some 
times  displayed. 

"  Yes,  I  heard,"  said  Charley  with  a  look  of  sym 
pathy  at  the  restless  fire  in  Roger's  deep  gray  eyes. 
"  I  guess  we're  all  up  against  it  and  will  have  to 
cultivate  patience.  Perhaps  Rabbit  Tail  will  trust  you, 
Roger." 

"  I  call  him  Roger  dear,  and  he  likes  it.  Why  don't 
you  too,  Charley  ? "  interrupted  Felicia,  coming  in 
from  the  porch  where  she  had  been  building  an  adobe 
doll  house. 

The  abstracted  look  left  Roger's  face  for  a  moment. 
'  Yes,  why  don't  you,  Charley?  "  he  asked  with  a  grin 
that  made  his  face  look  bright. 

Charley  laughed.  "  If  it  will  make  you  look  human, 
like  that,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  will  call  you  anything 
you  wish,  Roger  dear !  " 

Roger's  grin  faded  to  an  expression  that  was  curi 
ously  tense.  Dick,  who  had  been  giving  only  half 
attention  to  this  exchange,  now  said :  "  Rabbit  Tail 
won't  trust  you.  He's  had  too  many  dealings  with  the 
whites,  poor  devil.  We'll  have  to  break  a  trail  to  the 
mine  and  use  our  team.  Just  let  me  get  that  alfalfa  in 
again,  Roger,  and  I'll  help  you  out." 

"  I  can  pay  you  up  in  days'  work  as  far  as  the  use 
of  your  time  and  team  go,"  said  Roger.  "  What  I'll 


i88  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

always  be  in  your  debt  for  is  the  advice  and  backing 
you  give  me." 

Dick  grunted.  "  I'm  glad  my  four  years'  hell  down 
here  is  of  value  to  some  one.  I'll  let  you  know  when 
I've  finished  re-seeding." 

"  I  want  to  help  on  that,"  insisted  Roger.  "  Our 
international  debt  is  getting  too  one-sided." 

"  Well,  I'll  be  mighty  grateful  to  you,"  sighed  Dick. 
"  I'll  take  your  help  on  the  re-seeding,  but  I'll  be  still 
more  appreciative  if  you'll  take  a  look  at  my  gasoline 
engine  to-morrow  morning.  I've  spun  that  fly  wheel 
until  my  hope  of  salvation's  gone.  And  I've  got  to 
wet  that  field  down." 

"  I'll  get  at  it  now,"  said  Roger. 

With  Felicia  trailing  at  his  heels,  Roger  made  his 
way  to  the  shed  beside  the  spring.  The  engine  and 
pump  were  both  old.  Roger  tinkered  for  a  half  hour, 
Felicia  standing  by  to  hand  him  the  wrench  or  the  oil 
can  on  demand. 

"Do  you  love  me,  Roger?"  the  child  asked,  as 
Roger  tugged  at  a  rusty  oil  cup  screw. 

"  I  certainly  do.     Do  you  love  me?  " 

"  Yes.     Do  you  love  Charley?  " 

"  Well,  I'm  fond  of  Charley.  I've  known  her  a 
long  time,  you  know." 

"  But  you  aren't  fonder  of  her  than  you  are  of  me?  " 
insisted  Felicia. 

"  Certainly  not !  You're  my  best  sweetheart.  Now 
the  oil  can,  Felicia." 

The  little  girl  stared  at  Roger,  with  speculative  eyes. 
"  Charley  says  you're  very  interesting.  What  is  an 
interesting  man,  Roger." 

"  One   who   knows   how   to   start   a   gas   engine, 


GUSTAV  189 

chicken,"  exclaimed  Charley,  coming  into  the  shed. 
"  Mercy,  Felicia,  are  you  always  as  personal  as  this  ?  " 

"  Felicia  is  nothing  if  not  feminine."  Roger  tugged 
at  the  fly  wheel  and  grinned  at  Charley  who  made  a 
little  grimace. 

"  Roger  likes  it !  "  exclaimed  Felicia.  "  He  belongs 
to  me,  Charley.  He  likes  me  bettern  you,  he  says  so." 

"Well,  it  is  like  this,  Charley  —  "  began  Roger 
elaborately. 

Charley  cut  him  off  with  a  wave  of  her  hand. 
"  Nothing  can  explain  away  that  blow,  Roger." 
Then  she  went  on,  soberly.  "  Do  you  suppose  the  old 
lemon  will  pull  us  through  our  first  crop  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Charley.  One  never  does  about  a 
gasoline  engine.  There's  always  more  life  in  an  old 
one  though  than  one  realizes.  If  this  does  fail  you, 
however,  I'll  be  in  running  shape  in  two  months'  time 
with  my  solar  engine.  Don't  forget  that." 

"  When  do  you  expect  to  make  your  first  actual 
test?"  asked  Charley. 

"  WTell,  the  engine  will  be  here  almost  any  time  now. 
If  the  Dean  has  done  a  good  construction  job,  I  ought 
to  be  able  to  make  a  tentative  connection  in  six  weeks' 
time." 

"  How  do  you  mean  a  good  job?  "  asked  Charley. 

"  Well,  this  is  the  first  full  size  fifty  horse  power 
engine  that  we've  built.  You  see,  I've  had  no  money 
and  we've  worked  from  models,  though  I  did  build  one 
ten  horse  power  engine.  That  worries  me  a  little,  but 
I'm  sure  that  any  defects  that  appear  will  be  easily 
remedied.  Now  then,  this  old  mule  ought  to  begin 
to  kick!" 

Roger  turned  the  fly  wheel  again  and  an  obstinate 


THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Put!  Put!  Put!  came  from  the  engine,  then  a  long 
pause,  during  which  the  audience  of  three  waited  anxi 
ously,  then  a  steady  Put!  Put!  Put!  Put!  Put!  that 
promised  to  last  as  long  as  did  the  gasoline. 

"If  the  old  thing  could  just  realize  all  that  depends 
on  its  behaving  itself !  "  exclaimed  Charley.  "  Roger, 
let's  throw  in  the  pump,  I  really  believe  it's  going  to 
run!" 

And  run  it  did,  during  the  entire  day,  with  only 
three  stops  for  repair.  Roger  worked  until  late  after 
noon  with  Dick  and  the  next  day  Gustav  took  his  place. 
The  damage  done  by  the  dust  storm  to  the  absorber 
was  now  completely  remedied  and  Roger  and  Ernest 
began  work  on  a  shallow  concrete  trough  on  which  the 
condenser  was  to  be  erected.  By  the  time  this  was 
completed,  Dick's  second  sowing  was  finished  and  he 
announced  himself  ready  for  road  building. 

At  first,  Roger  felt  violently  resentful  at  the  thought 
of  having  to  build  a  road.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
after  all  his  years  of  patient  persistency,  fate  at  the 
last  was  playing  him  a  scurvy  trick.  She  had  brought 
his  goal  within  sight,  only  to  beset  it  with  delays  and 
difficulties  whose  very  paltriness  it  seemed  to  him  he 
could  not  endure.  And  a  feverish  little  flame  of  im 
patience  began  to  glow  within  him  that  was  not  to  be 
extinguished  for  many  months.  However  when,  pick 
in  hand,  he  actually  began  with  the  others  to  break  the 
road,  a  sudden  elation  swept  over  him.  After  all, 
primitive  as  this  work  might  be,  it  was  empire  building 
of  the  most  fundamental  sort.  And,  in  spite  of  his 
anxieties  and  impatience,  Roger  did  his  share  of  the 
road  building  with  right  good  will. 

They  began  work  in  the  range  back  of  the  ranch, 


GUSTAV  191 

taking  advantage  of  draw  and  canyon  whenever  pos 
sible,  even  when  this  demanded  a  long  detour.  Some 
times,  the  canyon  bottoms  were  astonishingly  level. 
At  other  times  boulders  and  crevices  would  block  them 
until  they  had  made  free  use  of  dynamite.  They  had 
all  sorts  of  minor  mishaps.  Dick  was  not  an  expert 
either  in  road  grading  or  blasting,  although  he  was  far 
ahead  of  the  Sun  Planters  in  his  information  about 
both. 

In  running  the  road  up  the  side  of  Snake  Peak  he 
used  too  heavy  a  charge  and  brought  down  a  land  slide 
which  it  took  them  a  day  to  clear.  On  a  previous  day 
he  had  blasted  too  close  to  the  wagon  and  a  bowlder 
had  smashed  the  rear  axle.  He  took  extraordinarily 
narrow  chances  with  the  steepness  of  grade  but  in  spite 
of  the  Sun  Planters'  prophecies  they  did  not  lose  either 
horses  or  wagon  down  canyon  or  mountain  side. 
Ernest,  however,  slipped  on  top  of  one  of  the  finished 
sections  and  rolled  two  hundred  feet  before  he  could 
stop  himself. 

When,  after  two  weeks'  steady  labor,  Dick  pro 
nounced  the  road  good  enough,  the  others  looked  at 
him  aghast.  "  You'll  break  your  wagon  and  your 
horses'  necks,  to  say  nothing  of  losing  the  oil !  "  pro 
tested  Ernest. 

Dick  only  laughed.  "  This  is  a  boulevard  compared 
with  some  of  the  desert  routes  I've  taken.  With  just 
a  few  drums  of  oil  lashed  on  at  a  time,  we'll  make  it." 

And  make  it  he  did,  though  nearly  another  week 
was  consumed  in  the  doing,  and  four  drums  of  the  oil 
were  lost  in  different  draws  and  canyons.  After  the 
road  was  finished,  the  transporting  of  the  oil  was 
turned  over  to  Ernest  and  Dick  while  Roger  and 


192  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Gustav  began  the  erecting  of  the  condenser.  Ernest 
was  now  quite  reconciled  to  the  use  of  the  oil  for 
Hackett  had  received  a  telegram  from  the  owner  in 
San  Francisco  that  the  deal  was  more  than  satis 
factory  to  him. 

Roger  and  Gustav  worked  well  together.  The  self- 
controlled  German,  evidently  accustomed  to  hard  grind 
and  overwork  in  an  office  job,  was  not  in  the  least 
ruffled  by  Roger's  impatient  ways.  And  he  distinctly 
enjoyed  the  vim  and  imagination  that  were  character 
istic  of  Roger's  work  even  when  it  involved  the  seem 
ingly  simple  task  of  cutting  and  threading  condenser 
pipe.  For  cutting  and  threading  condenser  pipe  so 
that  it  shall  be  leak  proof  is  not  a  simple  job  at  all. 

April  came  to  the  desert  with  a  noon  temperature 
of  a  hundred  degrees  in  the  shade.  Imperceptibly  the 
daily  breeze  stiffened  to  a  noon  gale.  There  were  no 
sand  storms  however  for  six  weeks  and  the  second 
alfalfa  crop  caught  toe  hold  and  grew,  an  amazing 
patch  of  green  on  the  thirsty  yellow  sand. 

The  ranch  house  engine  misbehaved,  regularly,  but 
Roger  developed  what  Charley  called  actual  genius  for 
tinkering  and  somehow  the  five  acres  were  watered. 
When  the  morning  stillness  was  broken  by  the  first 
uneven  Put!  Put!  of  the  engine,  the  Sun  Planters 
would  pause  in  their  work  and  listen  intently.  If, 
after  due  patience,  the  Put!  Put!  developed  into  a 
steady  throb,  they  resumed  work.  But  if  after  a  spasm 
or  two,  silence  reigned  again,  Roger  would  pull  his  hat 
over  his  eyes  and  start  for  the  ranch,  and  eventually 
that  day,  water  would  be  given  the  parching  fields.  In 
the  meantime,  Dick  began  to  prepare  a  second  five-acre 
patch  for  late  sowing. 


GUSTAV  193 

Early  in  the  month  Roger  received  a  check  from  the 
Dean  for  one  hundred  and  sixty  dollars.  He  resolved 
to  put  all  but  a  few  dollars  of  this  into  a  supply  of  food 
and  with  Charley's  help,  he  made  a  list  that  Gustav 
filled  at  Hackett's.  There  was  provision  for  over 
three  months  in  this  list  and  Roger  felt  sure  that  this 
period  of  time  would  see  the  completion  of  the  plant. 

A  curt  letter  had  come  to  Roger  from  the  Smith 
sonian  Institution  saying  merely  that  his  case  was 
being  investigated  and  that  in  due  time  a  report  and 
decision  would  reach  him.  With  this,  Roger  was 
obliged  to  be  content.  He  had  little  faith,  however, 
that  the  Institution  would  go  on  with  Austin's  under 
taking  and  he  resolved  to  push  ahead  with  all  speed, 
taking  advantage  of  what  was  left  of  the  golden 
opportunity  Austin  had  offered  him. 

Late  in  April,  the  engine  reached  Archer's  Springs. 
Hackett,  who  was  properly  equipped  for  heavy 
freighting,  as  poor  willing  Dick  was  not,  undertook  to 
haul  the  engine  to  the  camp.  He  was  entirely  willing, 
he  told  Roger,  to  wait  for  his  pay. 

"  No  great  loss/'  he  said,  "  if  I  don't  get  it.  But  I 
got  confidence  in  you  and  though  your  idea  do  seem 
awful  mltty,  if  anything  comes  of  it,  I  ain't  going  to 
have  it  said  I  done  something  to  set  back  our  com 
munity  here.  We  got  a  great  state  and  a  great  county 
and  I'm  here  to  promote  'em  both." 

So  the  dismantled  engine  was  landed,  without  too 
great  difficulty,  in  the  waiting  engine  house  and  as 
soon  as  the  condenser  was  finished,  the  three  men 
began  to  set  up  this  child  of  Roger's  heart  and  brain. 
But  after  the  heavy  work  was  done  Roger  would  let 
no  one  attempt  adjusting  the  parts  but  himself.  He 


194  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

set  Ernest  and  Gustav  to  digging  the  oil  pit  for  the 
storing  of  the  sun-heated  oil  and  spent  his  days  and 
part  of.  his  nights  in  the  engine  house. 

As  the  weeks  slipped  into  May,  many  were  the 
surmises  as  to  what  had  become  of  the  Von  Mindens. 
The  madam's  tent  stood  just  as  she  had  left  it  and  the 
burros  she  had  left  behind  ranged  about  the  desert, 
near  the  Preble  corral,  coming  home  each  night  for  the 
good  feed  Dick  gave  them. 

Almost  every  day  Felicia  came  to  the  plant.  Her 
love  for  Roger  and  Roger's  for  her  was  an  accepted 
thing  now  between  the  two  households.  Only  Charley 
could  draw  the  child  away  from  the  abstracted,  hard- 
driven  young  engineer  and  Dick  showed  his  innate 
generosity  in  that  though  he  adored  the  little  girl  he 
did  not  harbor  a  grudge  because  Felicia  so  frankly 
declared  her  preference  for  Roger. 

After  the  condenser  was  finished  Felicia  took  a  deep 
interest  in  helping  Roger  to  find  leaks  in  the  system. 
Roger  taught  her  to  squirt  oil  from  an  oil  can  over  the 
different  points  and  to  interpret  bubbles  rising  from 
the  resulting  oil  flow  as  leaks.  It  was  the  quaintest 
sight  in  the  world  to  see  the  slender  little  figure  in  blue 
overalls,  brown  head  running  over  with  short  curls, 
crawling  like  a  little  lizard  over  the  greasy  pipes  while 
Roger  followed  with  pipe  wrench,  cold  chisel  and  peen 
hammer.  After  Roger  began  work  on  the  engine, 
Felicia  became  a  sort  of  plumber's  assistant  and  a  clever 
one,  at  that. 

Sometimes  Charley  came  late  in  the  afternoon  to 
take  Felicia  home.  She  would  perch  on  the  edge  of 
the  work  bench  and  talk  to  Roger  about  the  work  in  a 
voice  and  with  an  unself -conscious  manner  so  like  her 


GUSTAV  195 

small  sister's  that  Roger,  his  restless  mind  on  the  prob 
lems  of  his  work,  often  confused  the  two  girls  in  his 
thoughts  and  answered  or  directed  them  indiscrimi 
nately.  And  Charley  would  chuckle  as  she  watched 
him. 

The  day  in  May  that  the  men  began  a  test  for  oil 
leaks  in  the  absorber  dawned  with  a  promise  of  fero 
cious  heat.  Felicia  appeared  as  usual  but  admitted 
that  she  had  come  over  Charley's  protest. 

"  We'll  have  to  leave  off  work  at  eleven,  and  not 
begin  again  until  three  as  Dick  suggested,  if  this  heat 
keeps  up,"  observed  Ernest. 

"  Then  we'll  begin  work  at  dawn,"  said  Roger, 
with  a  sigh.  "  Every  minute  counts,  old  man." 

About  nine  o'clock  Charley  came  panting  down  the 
trail. 

"  Felicia  must  come  home  at  once,"  she  cried. 
"  There's  a  big  sand  storm  coming.  Dick  is  getting 
the  stock  under  cover  as  fast  as  he  can." 

The  men  dropped  their  tools  hurriedly  and  looked 
up  the  valley.  A  great  gray  cloud  was  approaching 
so  rapidly  that  as  they  gazed  they  caught  the  sound 
of  its  increasing  roar.  The  sky,  which  had  been  sap 
phire  of  an  unusual  translucence  that  morning,  turned 
all  in  a  moment  to  a  sullen  red  gray.  There  was  a 
dry  rattle  of  lizards  and  horned  toads  scuttling  into  the 
roots  of  grease  wood  and  cactus. 

"  You  mustn't  try  to  go  home,  Charley,"  exclaimed 
Roger. 

"  But  I  must!  Dick  and  his  alfalfa!  He  can't  be 
alone!" 

But  Dick  was  destined  to  spend  the  day  in  solitude. 
With  a  very  Niagara  of  sound  the  sand  storm  struck 


196          THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

the  camp.  Charley  and  Felicia  ran  for  the  living  tent 
where  the  men  shortly  joined  them.  They  closed  the 
flaps  and  settled  to  a  day  of  discomfort.  The  engine 
house  would  have  been  more  comfortable  than  the  tent 
but  it  was  too  cumbered  with  machinery  now  to  be 
used  as  a  sitting  room.  There  was  no  work  that  could 
be  done  indoors.  The  heat  was  stifling,  a  hundred 
and  six  the  thermometer  over  the  washstand  trunk  re 
ported.  The  tent  rocked  and  bellied,  bellied  and 
flapped  with  reverberations  like  drum-beats.  Felicia 
was  frightened  at  first  and  hid  her  head  in  Charley's 
lap.  Charley  herself  was  white-lipped,  less,  Ernest 
thought,  from  fear  of  the  storm  than  from  that  vague 
apprehension  about  Dick  that  never  seemed  to  leave 
her. 

For  a  time  Roger  sat  scowling  with  impatience,  then 
Felicia's  fear  moved  him  and  calling  the  child  to  him 
he  began  to  tell  her  of  the  old  swimming  pool. 
The  others  listened  and  laughed  and  when  Felicia 
begged  for  more,  Gustav  told  a  charming  tale  of  his 
own  Bavarian  childhood.  And  he  and  Ernest  sang 
together  some  tender  folk  songs  which  Felicia  insisted 
on  learning.  While  Gustav  and  Ernest  undertook  this 
pleasant  task  Charley  and  Roger  talked. 

At  Charley's  request,  Roger  brought  out  his  blue 
prints  and  explained  the  plant  to  her.  He  felt  his 
impatience  lifting  as  he  talked.  Explaining  his  work 
always  seemed  to  increase  his  critical  vision.  New 
ideas  came  flooding,  and  he  pulled  out  his  note  book, 
feeling  that  after  all  the  day  was  not  entirely  wasted. 

So,  in  spite  of  the  bitter  taste  of  alkali  in  their 
mouths  and  its  sting  in  their  eyes,  in  spite  of  the  breath- 


GUSTAV  197 

less  burning  heat,  the  morning  passed  cheerfully. 
They  even  managed  to  satisfy  their  hunger  with 
canned  beef  and  canned  brown  bread.  They  had 
washed  down  the  last  of  the  unsavory  lunch  with  the 
tepid,  nauseously  alkaline  water  from  the  olla  when  a 
gust  of  wind  of  tremendous  proportions  tore  open  the 
door  flap  and  filled  the  room  with  a  blinding  swirl  of 
sand.  At  the  same  moment  there  was  a  fearful  crash 
from  without,  followed  by  the  sound  of  breaking  glass. 
Leaving  Charley  to  re  fasten  the  door  flap,  the  three 
men  bolted  toward  the  absorber. 

The  sand  cloud  was  so  dense  that  they  could  dis 
tinguish  little  until  in  actual  contact  with  the  edge  of 
the  trough.  Then  the  trouble  was  obvious.  A  part 
of  the  sheet  iron  roof  had  blown  off  the  engine  house, 
and  lay  in  a  great  twisted  heap  on  the  absorber.  Roger 
immediately  crawled  under  the  trough.  The  heavy 
metal  had  pierced  the  floor  of  the  absorber  and  oil 
was  pouring  out  in  a  thin  but  steady  stream.  He 
pawed  his  way  out  hurriedly. 

"  Go  shut  the  oil  off,  Ernest,"  he  shouted,  "  and  get 
pails  to  catch  that  oil.  Why  the  devil  did  some  one 
leave  the  valve  open?  Gustav,  give  me  a  hand  with 
this  mess.  Why  didn't  we  have  sense  enough  to 
fasten  it  securely?  If  we  don't  move  it,  it  may  blow 
the  length  of  the  trough." 

Roger  plunged  hastily  up  among  the  panes  of 
broken  glass,  Gustav  following.  After  a  moment  of 
effort  the  guilty  mass  of  sheet  iron  was  shoved  over 
onto  the  sand.  Just  at  the  last  a  particularly  vicious 
blast  of  wind  twisted  it  violently  against  Gustav's  bare 
arm. 


198  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Du  lieber  Gott!  "  he  roared.     "  Be  careful  yet!  " 

"  Now  let's  cover  the  engine,"  shouted  Roger,  giving 
no  heed  to  Gustav's  cry. 

"  Hell  mit  the  engine !  Look !  "  Gustav  thrust  his 
left  hand  in  Roger's  face.  The  sleeve  was  dripping 
blood.  Roger  seized  Gustav's  arm  tightly  above  the 
elbow.  "  Come  over  to  the  tent,  Gustav,"  he  said. 

Stumbling  blindly  through  the  sand  drifts  the  two 
men  reached  the  tent,  where  just  as  they  crept  inside 
the  flap,  Gustav  fainted.  Charley  ran  forward  and 
before  Roger  could  protest  had  helped  lift  Gustav  to 
his  cot. 

"  I  don't  think  it's  so  bad.  He  never  can  stand  the 
sight  of  blood/'  said  Roger. 

They  stripped  back  the  sleeve  as  Roger  spoke.  A 
gash  several  inches  long  in  Gustav's  upper  arm  had 
laid  bare  the  bone.  Felicia  began  to  cry. 

"  I've  got  a  first  aid  kit,  somewhere,"  said  Roger, 
running  to  dig  wildly  through  the  trunks,  emerging  in 
a  moment  with  a  black  box,  from  which  he  produced 
a  tourniquet.  They  applied  this  quickly. 

"  Now,  is  there  some  alcohol  here?  "  asked  Charley. 
"  We  will  wash  it  off  with  that  until  we  can  boil  some 
water.  Felicia,  you  go  put  all  the  things  back  nicely 
in  the  boys'  trunks,  and  don't  pay  any  attention  to  us." 

Felicia  was  quickly  absorbed  in  this  altogether  fas 
cinating  task,  while  Charley's  skillful  fingers  made  a 
temporary  bandage  for  Gustav's  arm.  He  was  con 
scious  now  and  offered  a  sick  protest  against  Charley's 
suggestion : 

"  Let's  cut  this  shirt  off  him,  Roger.  It's  saturated 
with  blood.  I'll  sew  it  up  for  him  later." 

Gustav  sat  up  and  before  he  could  do  more,  Roger 


GUSTAV  199 

and  Charley  had  removed  his  shirt.  To  their  surprise 
they  found  he  was  wearing  two,  the  second  shirt 
having  a  particularly  huge  pocket,  full  of  papers  that 
were  blood  saturated. 

"  Don't  touch  that,  don't !  "  cried  Gustav.  Then 
catching  sight  of  the  blood  stains,  he  fainted  again. 

"  Who'd  think  old  Gustav  was  such  a  perfect  lady," 
chuckled  Roger.  "  Here,  let's  get  him  cleaned  up  now 
before  he  comes  to,  again." 

They  pulled  off  the  second  shirt,  and  put  on  one  of 
Roger's  fresh  ones.  Then  while  Charley  gave  Gustav 
some  water,  Roger  took  the  papers  from  the  bloody 
pockets  of  the  second  shirt. 

"  I'll  wipe  these  off  before  the  blood  sets,"  he  said. 
Then  his  eye  caught  a  memorandum  in  German 
"  Low  pressure  engine  —  new  detail.  Moore." 
Roger  quickly  opened  the  paper.  It  was  about  six 
inches  square  and  was  a  copy  of  a  detail  of  one  of 
Roger's  patent  drawings. 

"  I'll  be  damned !  "  muttered  Roger,  his  face  flushing 
darkly. 

He  ran  through  other  sheets.  There  were  more 
drawings  and  some  carefully  written  notes  on  Roger's 
general  scheme  for  heat  utilization.  He  was  reading 
these  very  deliberately  when  Ernest  came  in. 

"  Whew,  what  a  country !  "  began  Ernest,  then  he 
stopped  with  a  gasp. 

Gustav,  who  was  sitting  up  again,  groaned  weakly. 

"  I  vas  a  chicken-fool,  eh,  Miss  Charley?  " 

Roger  crossed  to  the  bed  with  a  stride.  "  Look 
here,  Schmidt,"  he  said,  "  the  sooner  you  get  your 
things  together  and  get  out  of  here,  the  better  I'll  like 
it." 


200  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

*•• 

Gustav  stood  up.     His  jaw  dropped.     Then  his  eye 

fell  on  the  papers  in  Roger's  hand. 

"  I  told  you  not  to  take  off  the  shirt  from  me!  "  he 
cried. 

"What's  the  matter,  Rog?  "  asked  Ernest. 

"Matter?  Matter?  Why,  this  fellow  is  a  thief. 
He's  been  stealing  my  ideas.  Go  on  now !  Get  out  of 
here!" 

Ernest  took  the  blood-stained  papers  and  glanced  at 
them  hurriedly. 

"  Hold  on !  Be  cool,  Roger !  Give  Gustav  a  chance 
to  explain." 

"  Explain !  Explain  what  ?  Just  how  he  stole 
these?  Tear  those  papers  up,  Ernest,  and  take  this 
Dutchman  out  of  my  sight.  Get  him  out,  I  tell  you." 

Ernest  hesitated.  In  all  the  years  he  had  known 
Roger  he  never  had  seen  him  in  a  passion  like  this. 
Felicia  flew  over  to  Charley  who  stood  with  wide 
troubled  eyes  on  Roger's  distorted  face.  The  child 
was  white  and  trembling. 

"  Ernest !  "  thundered  Roger. 

With  a  glance  at  Gustav,  Ernest  began  to  tear  up 
the  papers. 

"  Roger !  Please !  Bitte !  I  can  explain,"  began 
Gustav. 

"  Don't  speak  to  me.  I've  heard  vague  stories  of 
how  German  manufacturers  get  their  ideas.  This,  I 
know:  in  the  morning,  you'll  start  for  Archer's 
Springs,  you  skunk !  " 

"  Oh,  Rog!  "  protested  Ernest. 

"How  dare  you  protest,  Ernest?"  Roger  turned 
on  his  friend  furiously.  "  You  know  what  that  engine 


GUSTAV  201 

means  to  me.  You  know  the  difficulty  of  patent  pro 
tection  and  now  this  dirty  hound  — " 

"  Here !  That  I  von't  take  from  any  man,"  cried 
Gustav.  "  You  vas  acting  like  a  fool,  Roger." 

Roger  lunged  forward  with  his  right  fist  swinging. 
But  before  Ernest  could  interfere,  Charley  had  caught 
the  clenched  fist  with  both  her  hands,  and  was  clinging 
to  it  with  all  her  fine  strength. 

"  Oh,  Roger !  "  she  cried.     "  Oh,  Roger !  Roger !  " 

Roger  dropped  his  arm  and  stared  at  her  for  a 
moment.  Her  eyes,  so  like  Felicia's,  so  unlike  them, 
returned  his  furious  gaze,  unflinching.  Suddenly,  he 
grew  pale  and  without  a  word,  turned  on  his  heel  and 
left  the  tent. 

He  made  his  way  to  the  engine  house.  Ernest  had 
covered  the  engine  with  a  tent  fly,  but  Roger  did  not 
even  glance  at  the  idol  of  his  heart.  He  made  his 
way  back  where  the  roof  still  offered  some  protection 
from  the  storm  and  sat  down  on  an  empty  box.  An 
hour,  then  another  slipped  by,  the  sand  sifting  heavily 
on  Roger  as  he  crouched  motionless,  his  head  in  his 
hands. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  hour,  the  storm  had  lessened 
perceptibly  and  by  the  time  the  second  had  passed,  the 
westering  sun  was  flashing  through  the  dusty  windows. 
Voices  outside  did  not  rouse  Roger,  but  when  Charley 
slipped  in  through  the  sagging  door,  he  looked  up. 
The  girl  returned  his  look  soberly  and  sat  down  on  a 
pile  of  adobe  brick  near  him. 

Roger  looked  at  her  curiously.  No  one,  excepting 
his  mother,  had  ever  before  checked  one  of  his  flights 
of  fury,  midway.  Sometimes,  as  in  the  episode  with 


202  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

young  Hallock,  he  had  been  able  to  check  himself,  but 
this  was  not  frequent. 

"  Why  did  you  do  that  ?  Why  did  you  interfere  ?  " 
he  asked  abruptly. 

"  I  couldn't  stand  by  and  see  you  make  a  mess  of 
your  life,"  replied  Charley,  "  just  as  things  seemed  to 
be  going  well." 

•"Going  well!"  repeated  Roger  sardonically. 
"  Why,  I've  been  sitting  here  for  hours,  bringing  my 
self  to  the  realization  of  the  fact  that  my  life  is  a 
hopeless  mess.  I  can't  trust  any  one.  I  can't  get 
help.  I  can't  do  it  all  alone.  I'm  going  to  quit  this 
game  and  get  a  job." 

"  Roger,"  said  Charley  slowly,  "  do  you  want  to 
know  what's  the  matter  with  you,  aside  from  your 
temper?  You're  completely  work-  and  self -centered. 
You  don't  take  human  beings  into  your  calculations  at 
all.  And  you  won't  be  a  real  success  until  you  get  to 
studying  and  liking  people  as  well  as  you  do  machinery. 
If  you'd  given  about  a  tenth  of  the  thought  to  Gustav 
that  you  have,  say,  to  stopping  the  leaks  in  the  con 
denser,  and  then  if  you'd  used  the  same  patience  with 
him  to-day  that  you  would  to  a  big  leak  in  the  pipes, 
you'd  be  farther  ahead  on  your  job  and  a  good  deal 
bigger  man.  Roger,  the  more  I  see  of  you  the  more 
I'm  convinced  that  your  failure  is  a  good  deal  less  the 
result  of  other  people's  indifference  than  it  is  of  your 
own  temperamental  peculiarities  and  weaknesses. 

Roger's  face  flushed  again.  "  What  business  have 
you  got  talking  this  way  to  me?"  he  blurted  out, 
angrily. 

"  Every  business  in  the  world,"  returned  Charley 
serenely.  "  I  like  you,  and  your  work  is  very  im- 


GUSTAV  203 

portant.  Anything  I  can  do  to  help  get  it  across,  I'm 
going  to  do,  regardless  of  your  feelings.  I  have  an 
idea  that  no  one  has  really  helped  you  since  your 
mother  died  —  that  is,  with  your  temper." 

The  anger  died  out  of  Roger's  eyes.  Once  again 
he  seemed  to  feel  that  faint  and  heavenly  touch  upon 
his  forehead.  It  did  not  seem  to  him  possible  that 
what  this  girl  said  of  him  was  true.  And  yet  there 
was  in  the  depths  of  her  steady  brown  eyes  a  sort  of 
ageless  wisdom  that  made  him  feel  awkward  and  im 
mature.  An  ageless  wisdom,  with  the  sweetness  and 
purity  of  the  child  Felicia's  gaze.  Lovely  drooping 
lips  that  were  Felicia's,  and  yet  were,  because  of  their 
sad  patience,  not  Felicia's,  but  belonged  to  a  woman 
who  reminded  him  of  his  mother. 

Roger  continued  to  stare  at  Charley  as  if  he  never 
had  seen  her  before.  After  a  moment  he  said  in  a 
half-whisper,  "  By  Jove,  I  believe  you  are  a  friend  to 
me  —  with  nerve  enough  to  tell  me  the  truth  as  you 
see  it,  which  Ernest  never  had.  And  he's  been  my 
only  friend.  Perhaps  you're  right,  perhaps  part  of 
the  fault  has  been  with  myself.  O  Lord,  Charley!  I 
do  need  some  one  to  tell  me  the  truth,  I  certainly  do." 

Charley  put  out  her  hand  to  lay  it  on  Roger's 
shoulder. 

"Poor  child!  "she  said,  softly. 

In  a  moment,  Roger  was  a  little  boy  again,  back  at 
his  mother's  side.  "  O  God ! "  he  whispered,  and 
throwing  himself  forward  on  his  knees,  buried  his 
head  in  Charley's  lap.  She  laid  her  hand  on  his  head 
with  the  touch  that  had  been  his  mother's.  "  Poor 
lonely  child,"  she  said  again.  And  for  the  first  time 
in  nearly  ten  years,  Roger  burst  into  tears. 


204  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Charley,  smoothing  his  heavy  black  hair,  said 
nothing  more  until  Roger  sheepishly  raised  his  head 
and  pulled  out  a  very  dirty  handkerchief. 

Then  she  said  in  a  very  matter-of-fact  voice,  "  By 
the  way,  as  soon  as  the  storm  let  up  a  little,  I  had 
Ernest  take  Gustav  up  to  the  ranch.  I  can  take  care 
of  him  up  there  and  I  didn't  want  Dick  to  be  alone 
any  longer." 

"  Where's  Felicia?  "  asked  Roger. 

"  She's  asleep  in  the  tent.  I  must  wake  her  up  and 
take  her  home  now.  The  storm  is  over." 

"  Leave  her  with  me  a  little  while,"  said  Roge-r. 
"  I'll  bring  her  home." 

"  All  right,  come  up  for  supper.  Ernest  and  Dick 
will  help  me  get  it." 

Roger  nodded  and  Charley  started  along  the  drifted 
trail  to  the  ranch  while  Roger  went  to  the  tent.  Felicia 
slept  on  while  he  shaved  and  put  the  tent  in  order. 
Then  he  stooped  over  the  cot  and  raised  her. 

"  Suppertime,  little  sweetheart,"  he  said. 

Felicia  woke  with  a  start.  "  Don't  be  cross,  Roger," 
she  exclaimed  after  blinking  at  him  for  an  instant. 

"  I  couldn't  be  cross  with  you,  Felicia,"  Roger  lifted 
her  in  his  arms  and  held  her  against  his  heart. 

"Never,  Roger?" 

"  Never,  Felicia.  You  must  never  be  afraid  of  me, 
even  when  I  scold  other  people.  Because  I  love  you 
very  much,  Felicia." 

The  child  threw  her  arms  around  Roger's  neck  and 
they  both  looked  off  to  the  ranch  house,  where  the 
windows  glowed  red  in  the  sunset.  There  was  some 
thing  infinitely  soothing  to  Roger  in  Felicia's  embrace 


GUSTAV  205* 

and  he  held  her  until  she  wriggled  impatiently  and 
announced  that  she  was  hungry. 

"  We'll  head  for  supper,"  he  said,  and  putting  her 
down  he  took  her  hand  and  they  started  through  the 
sand  for  the  ranch  and  Charley.  Gustav  was  waiting 
for  them  at  the  edge  of  the  corral. 

"  Felicia,  you  run  on  up  to  the  house  and  tell  Charley 
I'll  be  there  in  a  minute,"  said  Roger. 


CHAPTER  X 

DEATH    IN   THE  DESERT 

"TAON'T  scold  Gustav,"  cried  Felicia. 

*~J  "  I  won't/'  replied  Roger,  grimly,  and  the 
child  sped  up  the  path  to  the  porch. 

"  Roger !  I  did  not  mean  nodings  to  hurt  you ! 
Vy,  you  ver  like  my  own  son.  I  vas  having  a  plan  to 
help  you.  Please,  Roger,  listen  —  Bitte  sehr !  " 

Roger  was  a  little  pale  and  his  lips  were  stiff  but  he 
had  himself  well  in  hand. 

"  Look  here,  Gustav,  you  know  you  sneaked  on  me, 
'don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  it  vas  to  help  you.  I  vas  an  inventor, 
Roger.  I  haf  many  ideas." 

"Oh!  That  was  it,  was  it?"  He  looked  at 
Gustav's  sweaty  face,  usually  so  placid,  now  distorted 
with  pain  and  anxiety.  "  Well,  all  right,  old  man !  I 
guess  I  was  a  bit  hasty.  But  I  want  you  to  give  me 
your  word  of  honor  to  take  no  more  notes  and  under 
no  circumstances  to  give  any  one  any  information 
about  my  work." 

Gustav's  face  cleared  as  if  by  magic.  He  shook 
Roger's  proffered  hand  heartily.  "  I  promise.  Abso 
lute,  I  promise.  Thank  yon ;  thank  you  much,  Roger." 

"  Right-o  —  come  on  now,  let's  go  to  supper,"  and 
the  two  swung  up  the  trail,  and  into  the  adobe,  where, 

206 


DEATH  IN  THE  DESERT  207 

after  a  glance  at  their  faces,  their  waiting  friends 
greeted  them  hilariously. 

"  The  alfalfa  has  come  through,  Roger,"  shouted 
Dick.  "  I  guess  the  worst  is  over  for  me,  all  right. 
I'll  take  an  order  right  now  for  five  tons  of  alfalfa 
from  you,  Charley." 

"  Better  let  Felicia  order,"  replied  Charley.  "  I  un 
derstand  that  Mr.  von  Minden  is  going  to  find  a  burro 
for  her,  the  exact  twin  of  Peter." 

"  And  he's  going  to  learn  to  do  everything  Peter 
does,"  added  Felicia,  "  and  Ernest  says  I  must  name 
him  Re-peater.  Please  let's  have  supper." 

Gustav  made  a  poor  fist  at  eating.  His  arm  gave 
him  a  great  deal  of  pain  and  it  was  finally  decided 
that  Ernest  should  take  the  patient  team  and  that  night 
drive  Gustav  to  the  doctor.  They  made  the  start  im 
mediately  after  supper  and  did  not  return  until  the 
third  day  following.  Gustav  was  one-armed  for  some 
time  but  managed  to  make  himself  indispensable, 
nevertheless. 

As  summer  advanced,  a  new  working  schedule  that 
precluded  labor  in  the  middle  of  the  day  was  in 
augurated.  The  more  intense  the  heat  grew,  the  more 
intense,  it  seemed  to  Roger,  grew  the  weird  beauty  of 
the  desert.  The  midnight  stars  seemed  hardly  to  have 
blossomed  before  dawn  turned  the  desert  world  to  a 
delicate  transparent  yellow,  deepening  at  the  zenith  to 
blue  and  on  the  desert  floor  to  orange.  As  the  sun 
rose,  the  yellow  changed  suddenly  to  scarlet  and  for 
a  few  moments  earth  and  sky  quivered  in  a  lambent 
red  fire.  When  the  sun  had  shot  clear  of  the  moun 
tains,  details  of  landscape  and  contrasts  of  color  were 
accented.  Clear  black  of  peaks,  crimson  of  canyons, 


208  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

purple  of  rifts  in  the  ranges,  bright  moss  green  of 
cactus  dots  on  the  yellow  desert  floor.  And  always 
to  the  west  that  far  melting  loveliness  of  blue  and  gold 
and  black  that  was  the  River  Range.  And  always  the 
quivering,  parching  air  that  burned  against  the  body 
like  a  furnace  blast. 

Ernest  felt  the  heat  more  than  Roger  did  and  lost 
weight.  But  though  he  complained  a  great  deal  he 
stuck  to  his  work  manfully. 

After  Ernest  and  Gustav  had  returned  from 
Archer's  Springs  and  the  ravages  caused  by  the  desert 
storm  had  been  repaired,  Roger  started  on  a  hunt  into 
the  ranges  for  more  window  glass.  He  dared  spend 
his  money  for  nothing  but  food. 

He  outfitted  for  a  three  day  trip,  carrying  a  blanket, 
the  two-gallon  canteen,  beans,  canned  pears  and  a  batch 
of  baking  powder  biscuits.  Dick  gave  him  minute 
directions  as  to  the  location  of  different  mines  and  of 
springs,  and  Roger  started  off  confidently. 

There  was  very  little  glass  left  in  the  Goodloe  mines 
where  Roger  had  located  the  oil.  But  Dick  knew  of 
mines  some  ten  miles  north  along  the  backbone  of  the 
ranges  and  these  Roger  had  as  an  objective  when  he 
left  the  camp  in  the  yellow  dawn. 

He  reached  the  Goodloe  district  by  mid-morning. 
There  was  no  trail  to  the  north  but  he  jogged  along 
all  the  afternoon  by  compass  and  sun,  keeping  to  the 
top  of  the  ridge  whenever  possible.  During  all  this 
time  he  saw  no  sign  of  human  habitation.  Indeed  the 
only  living  beings  he  beheld  that  day  were  two  buzzards 
circling  meditatively  over  a  distant  peak  and  a  lonely 
coyote  skulking  against  the  sky  on  a  neighboring  ridge. 
By  six  o'clock  he  was  tired  beyond  expression  and  he 


DEATH  IN  THE  DESERT  209 

had  lost  all  idea  of  the  number  of  miles  he  had  covered, 
so  tortuous  had  been  the  seemingly  direct  line  of  the 
ridge. 

Roger  was  in  no  wise  discomfitted  or  discouraged, 
however.  He  made  his  camp  in  a  little  sandy  draw 
on  the  side  of  the  ridge  which  was  full  of  stunted 
cedars.  He  cut  up  one  cedar  for  his  fire  and  drew 
on  the  others  for  sufficient  twigs  to  cushion  his  blanket 
bed,  then  in  spite  of  the  heat  he  slept  the  sleep  that 
belongs  to  the  open. 

He  was  on  his  way  at  daylight,  whistling  cheerfully 
into  the  vast  distances  that  unrolled  about  him.  Mid- 
morning  came,  and  then  noon.  Half  the  time  allotted 
for  the  trip  had  gone,  and  still  there  was  no  sign  of 
deserted  mines. 

Roger  smoked  a  long  pipe  after  his  lunch,  chewing 
impatiently  on  his  pipestem  and  swearing  under  his 
breath  from  time  to  time.  He  was  tempted  violently 
to  keep  on  to  the  north,  but  remembering  Dick's  re 
peated  warnings  as  to  the  danger  of  running  out  of 
water  he  finally  won  his  own  consent  to  turning  back. 
He  determined,  however,  to  make  the  return  trip  on  the 
neighboring  range,  to  the  east. 

He  hoisted  his  pack  and  started  heavily  down  into 
the  valley  that  separated  him  from  the  next  range.  It 
was  a  good  two  miles  of  tooth  and  nail  climbing  and 
the  canyon  was  filled  with  afternoon  shadows  when 
Roger  reached  the  foot-wall  of  the  east  range.  The 
heat  was  almost  intolerable. 

As  he  paused  here,  far  above  his  head  a  donkey 
brayed.  Roger  started  quickly  upward  and  for  an 
hour  was  led  by  the  brayings  that  grew  louder  as  he 
neared  the  top.  As  he  crawled  around  the  last  brown 


210  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

rock  heap  that  crowned  the  ridge,  he  almost  stepped  on 
a  man  beside  whom  stood  a  little  gray  burro. 

"Peter!"  said  Roger.  Then,  "I  say,  Von 
Minden !  " 

He  stooped  over  the  quiet  form  at  his  feet.  The 
little  German  was  lying  on  his  face,  his  iron-gray  head 
resting  on  his  arm.  His  blue  overalls  and  faded  red 
sweater  were  covered  with  a  light  sifting  of  dust.  His 
pack  lay  beside  him,  unopened. 

Roger  turned  him  over,  and  as  he  did  so  Peter 
backed  off.  Von  Minden  was  dead.  He  had  been 
dead  a  long  time  Roger  thought,  as  shuddering,  he 
looked  down  on  the  bearded,  distorted  face.  Roger 
took  off  his  own  pack  and  went  over  the  body  care 
fully.  There  was  no  sign  whatever  of  any  violence. 
He  made  a  careful  survey  of  the  immediate  surround 
ings,  but  there  was  no  trace  of  Mrs.  von  Minden  to  be 
found. 

Peter  watched  Roger's  every  move,  moving  his  long 
ears  back  and  forth  enquiringly. 

There  was  nothing  whatever  in  Von  Minden's 
pockets,  except  a  jack  knife.  There  was  neither  food 
in  his  pack  nor  water  in  his  canteen.  The  one  sack 
contained  only  a  few  ore  samples.  The  dispatch  box 
was  not  to  be  found. 

It  was  impossible  to  dig  a  grave  on  that  peak  of 
solid  rock.  Moreover,  Roger  had  an  idea  that  the 
authorities  —  if  there  were  authorities  in  the  desert 
world  —  ought  to  find  the  body  as  he  .had  found  it. 
He  cut  down  several  of  the  stunted  cedars  and  piled 
them  over  the  pathetic  heap,  under  the  blanket.  On 
these  he  heaped  stones,  as  heavy  as  he  could  lift  until 
he  felt  sure  that  neither  coyote,  nor  yet  the  buzzards 


DEATH  IN  THE  DESERT  211 

that  circled  meditatively  above  could  disturb  the 
mound. 

The  sun  was  setting  when  he  had  finished. 

"  There,  Peter,"  said  he,  "  you  did  your  bit,  keeping 
the  beasts  away.  And  now  I've  done  mine,  so  we'll 


move  on." 


Roger  stood  for  a  moment  looking  from  Peter  to 
the  mound,  then  at  the  wide  sweep  of  the  ranges  about. 
The  whole  world  was  spread  before  him  in  utter 
silence;  range  beyond  range,  desert  beyond  desert  into 
a  violet  distance  so  great  that  the  fancy  staggered  in 
contemplating  it.  For  the  first  time  a  feeling  of  utter 
desolation  swept  over  Roger. 

What  a  death!  What  a  burial!  Moved  by  the 
impulse  that  is  the  heritage  of  the  ages,  Roger  took  off 
his  hat  and  bowed  his  head. 

"  O  God !  "  he  said  softly.  "  Receive  this  man's 
soul  and  give  him  peace.  Amen !  " 

Then  he  turned  south  along  the  range.  He  had 
gone  a  hundred  yards  when  he  remembered  Peter  and 
turned  back.  The  little  fellow  was  standing,  head 
drooping,  ears  flopping  beside  the  grave.  Roger 
whistled  but  Peter  gave  no  heed,  and  finally  Roger 
was  compelled  to  go  back,  tie  the  lead  rope  to  Peter's 
bridle  and  fairly  pull  him  along  the  trail. 

Roger  did  not  pause  until  he  had  put  a  peak  between 
himself  and  that  lonely  grave.  Then,  when  the  moon 
was  sailing  high,  he  made  camp  by  a  great  bowlder. 
He  turned  Peter  loose,  a  little  fearfully  at  first,  but  the 
wise  little  burro  made  no  attempt  to  turn  back.  When 
Roger  was  seated  cross-legged  by  the  fire  eating  bacon 
and  beans,  Peter  dropped  his  nose  over  Roger's 
shoulder  with  a  sigh. 


212  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"Hungry,  old  Peter?'5  asked  Roger.  "I  haven't 
got  much,  but  by  Jove,  you  can  have  half  of  that,"  and 
he  scraped  half  of  the  contents  of  his  plate  on  a  nearby 
stone.  Peter  ate  it  gravely,  after  which  Roger  poured 
a  cup  of  his  precious  water  into  the  frying  pan  for  the 
little  donkey's  benefit.  Then  while  Peter  seemed  to 
doze  with  his  nose  dropped  almost  to  the  ground, 
Roger  sat  long  in  the  hot  night,  smoking  and  wrapped 
in  thought. 

Since  the  death  of  his  father,  Roger  had  had  no 
contact  with  the  Grim  Reaper,  and  the  tragic  discovery 
of  the  afternoon  had  shaken  him.  Yet  as  he  sat  look 
ing  out  over  the  impenetrable  calm  and  mystery  of  the 
ranges  that  lifted  their  noble  peaks  to  the  sailing  moon, 
it  seemed  to  him  that  death  in  the  desert  was  a  clean 
and  normal  part  of  life.  If  his  Sun  Plant  were 
finished,  if  the  best  of  him,  his  dreams,  were  made 
permanent  in  concrete  and  steel,  what  more  happy 
ending  could  he  ask  than  to  lie  at  last  asleep  on  a 
desert  peak:  these  peaks  still  unsmirched  by  the  hand 
of  man ;  still  fresh  from  the  hand  of  God. 

It  was  with  this  thought  that  Roger  finally  fell 
asleep  while  the  moon  sank  behind  the  far  horizon,  the 
night  wind  rose  and  Peter  searched  for  herbage  in  the 
rock  crevices. 

The  next  day  was  a  long  one.  Roger  found  no 
trace  of  a  trail  and  by  mid-afternoon,  the  last  of  the 
water  was  gone.  When  this  fact  was  established,  the 
heat  seemed  worse  and  Dick's  many  stories  of  men 
who  had  thirsted  to  death  in  the  ranges  began  to  haunt 
Roger.  He  noticed  that  Peter's  little  legs  were  hourly 
more  unsteady  and  his  heart  ached  for  the  little  chap. 
He  ate  sparingly  that  evening,  giving  Peter  the  larger 


DEATH  IN  THE  DESERT  213 

share.  The  food  was  like  dry  sawdust  in  his  parched 
mouth.  He  slept  uneasily,  waking  from  dreams  of 
running  water  to  toss  for  an  hour  before  sleep  came 
again. 

With  the  first  streak  of  dawn  he  was  up  and  on. 
Going  was  slow,  for  now  the  real  torture  of  desert 
thirst  was  on  him  and  he  knew  that  unless  he  found 
water  that  day,  buzzards  would  be  circling  over  him 
on  the  morrow.  By  ten  o'clock  his  tongue  was  swell 
ing  and  he  seemed  to  have  ceased  to  sweat,  and  Peter 
leaned  panting  against  the  rocks  in  the  shade  of  which 
Roger  paused  to  rest.  After  a  half  hour,  Roger  rose 
to  his  feet.  The  morning  had  been  breathless  but  as 
he  rose,  a  little  hot  gust  of  air  blew  up  from  the 
canyon  below. 

Instantly  Peter  raised  his  head  and  sniffed.  The 
gust  increased  to  a  breeze.  With  ears  lapped  forward 
the  burro  tottered  to  the  canyon  edge  and  began  feebly 
to  pick  his  way  downward. 

Roger  watched  him  for  a  moment.  Then,  "  I  don't 
know  what  you've  discovered,  old  man,"  he  said 
thickly,  "  but  what's  good  enough  for  you,  is  good 
enough  for  me,"  and  he  followed  weakly  after  him. 

There  was  considerable  rolling  and  scrambling  done 
by  both  Peter  and  Roger  before  they  reached  bottom. 
When  Roger  finally  scrambled  panting  to  his  feet, 
face  burning,  ears  ringing,  he  found  that  they  were  in 
a  narrow  valley  thick  grown  with  scrub  oak.  Peter 
had  rolled  the  last  ten  feet,  and  when  he  brought  up 
against  a  barrel  cactus,  he  could  not  rise  until  Roger 
had  pottered  over  and  pulled  weakly  on  his  bridle. 
Then  he  walked  shakily  across  the  canyon,  Roger 
close  behind  him.  A  little  pool  reflecting  the  sky  and 


214  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

the  fern-like  leaves  of  the  mesquite  that  bordered  it 
lay  at  the  base  of  the  great  brown  rock. 

Roger,  as  he  drank,  had  vague  recollections  of  warn 
ings  he  had  read  about  the  dangers  of  over-drinking 
after  water  famine.  But  he  was  developing  an  im 
plicit  faith  in  Peter's  wisdom  and  Peter  was  drinking 
till  his  thin  ribs  swelled.  When  he  had  entirely  slaked 
his  thirst,  Roger  rested  for  a  bit,  then  looked  about 
him.  A  trail  led  along  the  canyon  from  the  spring, 
westward.  Roger  filled  the  canteen,  then  he  and 
Peter  took  the  trail.  It  led  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  to  a  deserted  mine,  a  mine  of  vast  workings  and 
huge  ramshackle  sheds  that  were  innocent  of  either 
windows  or  doors.  The  engine  house  had  been  nailed 
up,  but  Roger's  strength  and  spirits  had  been  much  re 
vived  by  the  water.  He  rested  for  awhile,  then 
wrenched  off  some  boards  and  went  in,  Peter  struggling 
to  follow,  then  giving  the  idea  up  and  standing  at  rest 
in  the  shade.  A  complete  ore  separator  plant  was  in 
stalled  within.  At  the  fore  end  of  the  shed  was  a  gas 
producer  engine  in  perfect  condition  as  far  as  Roger 
could  tell,  except  for  the  sand  that  had  sifted  over  it. 
It  was  of  a  type  with  which  he  was  not  familiar  and  he 
spent  a  half  hour  in  thoughtfully  examining  it,  and 
making  notes  on  a  scrap  of  paper  concerning  it.  He 
was  absorbed  in  a  new  idea  when  he  closed  up  the  shed 
and  whistled  to  Peter  who  had  found  some  old  alfalfa 
hay  in  a  manger  under  a  shed  and  was  just  finishing  it 
off. 

There  was  a  trail  still  leading  westward  out  of  the 
camp,  and  Roger,  with  a  blind  faith  that  his  luck  had 
turned,  followed  it  to  the  opposite  canyon  wall,  and 
here,  where  it  evidently  once  had  been  a  fair  mountain 


DEATH  IN  THE  DESERT  215 

road,  followed  it  on  up  to  the  top  of  the  range.  It 
was  late  afternoon  when  this  was  accomplished.  The 
ridge  where  Roger  now  found  himself  was  high  and 
barren.  At  first  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  trail  ended 
here  where  the  winds  had  swept  unhampered  by  man 
so  long.  But  Peter  was  untroubled.  He  crossed  the 
ridge  nimbly,  picked  up  a  range  trail  on  the  opposite 
side  and  started  to  descend. 

His  new  master  followed  with  a  chuckle  that  in 
creased  to  a  laugh  as  he  descried  far  to  the  north  on  the 
west  range,  the  faint  outlines  of  buildings,  with  the 
trail  faintly  marked  along  valley  and  mountainside 
toward  it.  Just  at  dusk  they  reached  it.  It  was  the 
Goodloe  mine!  In  spite  of  utter  fatigue  and  hunger, 
Roger  would  not  stop  now.  In  high  spirits  he  took  die 
familiar  road  toward  home. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  when  he  passed  the  Preble  ranch 
house,  silent  and  lightless,  but  with  the  horses  munch 
ing  in  the  corral.  He  stopped  to  pick  up  a  measure  of 
oats  for  Peter,  then  he  began  the  last  lap  of  his 
journey.  There  was  a  bright  fire  glowing  at  the  Sun 
Plant.  As  he  neared  it,  he  gave  a  shout.  There  was 
an  answering  shout  and  Ernest  and  Gustav  came  rush 
ing  through  the  desert  to  meet  him. 

They  had  been  consumed  with  anxiety  about  him. 
Dick  had  said  that  they  must  start  on  the  hunt  for  him 
at  dawn.  Ernest  had  lighted  the  fire  with  the  hope 
that  it  might  help  him. 

Gustav  took  Roger's  pack  and  Ernest  threw  a  help 
ing  arm  about  him.  They  led  him  straight  to  the  cook 
tent  where  they  had  kept  the  coffee  pot  warm,  and 
seated  him  at  the  table  where  a  place  was  set  for  him. 
Their  joy  and  relief  almost  unmanned  Roger. 


216  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  My  dear  chaps/'  he  insisted,  "  I  was  in  no  such 
great  danger !  " 

"  In  no  danger !  You  should  have  heard  what  Dick 
and  Charley  said,"  cried  Ernest. 

"Well,  it's  all  right  now,"  said  Roger.  "I've 
wasted  a  lot  of  time  but  I've  located  some  rich  loot, 
believe  me." 

"  Where'd  you  pick  up  the  burro  ?  "  asked  Ernest. 
"  He  looks  just  like  Peter." 

"  It  is  Peter,"  replied  Roger.  "  Gustav,  give  him 
those  oats  in  my  coffee  pot  and  let  me  eat,  then  I'll  tell 
you  all  about  it." 

It  was  scarcely  dawn  and  Roger  was  still  fast  asleep, 
when  Ernest  met  Dick  at  the  corral  with  the  news  of 
Roger's  safe  return  and  of  the  tragedy  of  poor  Crazy 
Dutch.  Dick  was  much  upset  at  hearing  of  Von  Min- 
den's  death. 

"  He  was  a  poor  old  loon,  but  mighty  good- 
hearted,"  he  said,  "  and  I  swear  I  don't  know  what 
we'd  have  done  sometimes  without  him  —  especially 
Charley.  She's  going  to  be  all  broken  up  over  this. 
I'll  tell  her,  then  I'll  come  down  and  talk  to  Roger." 

"  Roger  thought  we  ought  to  notify  the  folks  at 
Archer's  Springs  right  away,"  said  Ernest. 

"Shucks!  That's  not  necessary.  When  some  of 
us  go  in  we  can  notify  the  sheriff.  Dutch  had  a  bum 
heart  and  had  run  out  of  food  and  water.  Not  a  bad 
death,  poor  old  chap." 

When  Dick  came  down  to  the  camp,  and  they  all 
had  talked  a  little  sadly  of  Von  Minden's  lonely  death, 
Ernest  asked  suddenly : 

"  Did  you  find  any  window  glass,  Rog?  " 

Roger  gave  him  a  blank  look.     "  By  Jove,  no !    I 


DEATH  IN  THE  DESERT          217 

was  so  excited  over  Von  Minden  and  that  new  type 
engine  and  a  hunch  I  got,  that  I  forgot  all  about  it. 
Well,  I'll  just  have  to  start  out  again." 

"  By  the  way,"  Ernest  went  on,  "  I  went  into  town 
while  you  were  gone  to  get  the  mail.  There  was  just 
one  letter.  It  was  from  Elsa.  She's  on  her  way 
down  here.  She's  due  on  Sunday." 

Roger  looked  from  Dick  to  Ernest.  "  What  the 
devil  shall  we  do  with  her  ?  " 

"  Well,  she'll  have  to  outfit  and  grubstake  herself. 
She  knows  that,  and  she  knows  we're  broke.  I  think 
this  is  a  cooked  up  job  of  hers  and  mother's  just  to 
help  us  out.  And  gee !  —  but  I'll  be  glad  to  see  old 
Elschen!" 

"  So'll  I,  old  man.  But  Ernest,  this  is  no  place  nor 
circumstances  for  an  Old  Home  week.  I'm  sweating 
to  finish  this  plant  against  almost  impossible  odds." 

"  Don't  I  know  it?     Have  I  failed  you  any?  " 

"  You  have  been  absolutely  O.  K.  and  we'll  try  to 
give  Elsa  a  good  time." 

"  It  will  be  a  perfect  godsend  to  Charley,"  said  Dick. 
"  She  almost  cried  when  Gustav  told  us." 

"  Then  that's  settled,"  said  Ernest  with  a  sigh. 

"  Just  as  soon  as  it  can  be  managed,  we'll  have  to 
give  Von  Minden  a  decent  burial,  Roger,"  said  Dick. 
l<  I  won't  be  using  the  horses  to-morrow  and  you'll  be 
in  good  trim  by  then,  won't  you,  Rog?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Roger,  and  if  he  smothered  a  sigh  for 
another  day  lost  from  his  work,  no  one  noticed  it. 

Roger  spent  the  remainder  of  the  day  in  the  engine 
house,  going  over  his  engine,  shaking  his  head,  mutter 
ing  to  himself  like  an  old  man,  finally  straightening  his 
shoulders  stubbornly  and  whistling  through  his  teeth. 


218          THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

After  an  early  supper,  the  three  went  up  to  the 
ranch.  Felicia,  who  was  wiping  the  dishes  for 
Charley,  hurled  herself  at  Roger,  dishcloth  and  all. 

"  Oh !  "  she  shrieked.  "  You  must  never  leave  me 
like  this  again,  Roger.  I  worried  so  about  you  that 
my  stomach  ached  all  the  time  you  were  gone." 

Charley  laughed  with  the  rest,  but  quickly  sobered. 
"  I'm  so  glad  you  were  able  to  take  care  of  poor  Uncle 
Otto,"  she  said.  "  I  shall  miss  him  so.  None  of  you 
knew  him  as  I  did."  There  was  a  pause,  then  Charley 
went  on,  "Just  think  of  Ernest's  sister  coming!  I 
remember  her  vaguely.  She's  like  you,  isn't  she, 
Ernest?" 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  Roger.  "  She's  full  of  pep  and 
very  good  looking." 

"Well,  what  do  you  know  about  that?"  asked 
Ernest,  looking  at  Roger  wonderingly. 

"  She's  going  to  stay  with  us,  isn't  she?  Please  say 
yes,"  cried  Charley. 

"  Oh,  no,  don't  have  her  here.  She  wouldn't  like  to 
be  here  all  the  time,"  begged  Felicia.  Then  she 
blushed  and  retreated  behind  Roger's  chair.  She  re 
fused  half  tearfully  to  explain  her  statement  when  Dick 
urged  her,  at  first  jokingly,  then  in  a  commanding 
manner. 

"  Tell  me,  Felicia,  don't  you  like  it  here?  "  drawing 
her  to  his  side. 

"  Oh,  let  her  alone,  Dicky,"  begged  Charley.  "  Why 
insist  on  a  child's  reason  for  anything?  " 

"  But  I  want  to  know !  Tell  me,  Felicia,  don't  you 
like  it  here?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Felicia,  with  trembling  lips,  "  I  like  it 


DEATH  IN  THE  DESERT  219 

here,  'cept  when  you  get  sick  and  are  so  awful  cross 
with  me  and  Charley  and  make  Charley  cry.  I 
wouldn't  want  Elsa  to  see  you  that  way." 

Dick  turned  purple.  "  Oh,  well,"  cut  in  Roger, 
quickly,  "  Elsa'll  have  three  men's  crossness  to  put  up 
with  down  at  our  camp,  Felicia.  Just  think  of  that! 
And  if  it  should  happen  that  we'd  all  get  cross  at  once, 
probably  we'd  blow  the  roof  of  the  engine  house  off 
again." 

"  That's  why  we  want  Elsa  to  stay  with  us,"  said 
Ernest.  "  You  see  when  men  are  cross,  the  only 
thing  that  cures  them  is  having  a  nice  girl  around  to 
make  them  ashamed  of  themselves." 

"  Sometimes  already,  if  it  gets  too  much  vhen  I 
make  myself  mad,"  added  Gustav,  "  maybe  ve  get  a 
squaw  to  come  by  our  camp  to  vip  us  bad  boys  for 
Fraulein  Elsa,  eh  ?  " 

"If  all  the  men  in  the  world  get  cross,  like  you, 
Dicky,"  asked  Felicia,  wonderingly,  "  why  do  ladies 
marry  them  ?  " 

"They  don't,  chicken!     No  one's  married  me." 

"  Maybe  Elsa  will.  Unless  Gustav  gets  her,"  sug 
gested  Felicia. 

"  Maybe  Roger,  he  gets  her,  eh?  "  asked  Gustav. 

"  Oh,  no ! "  in  sudden  alarm,  crossing  over  to 
Roger's  knee  to  look  up  into  his  face  with  a  depth  of 
love  in  her  brown  eyes  that  tightened  his  throat  as  he 
lifted  her  into  his  lap.  "  Roger's  going  to  marry  me. 
Only  Roger,  if  ever  you're  as  cross  to  me  as  you  were 
to  Gustav,  I  shall  just  walk  out  of  the  house  and  never, 
never  come  back." 

It  was  Roger's  turn  to  blush  and  he  did  so  thor- 


220  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

oughly,  while  Dick  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter  in 
which  the  other  men  joined.  Under  its  cover,  Charley 
hustled  Felicia  off  to  bed. 

At  dawn  the  next  day  Roger  and  Dick  started  on 
their  melancholy  errand.  The  climbing  was  in  many 
instances  too  precipitous  for  the  horses  and  they  made 
many  detours.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  on  a 
detour  across  a  wide  canyon  that  they  came  upon  the 
end  of  the  Von  Minden  drama.  The  canyon  was 
really  a  part  of  the  desert  floor  and  was  deep  with 
sand.  Roger  it  was,  who  first  noted  footprints. 

"  Look,  Dick !  "  he  called.  "  An  Indian  must  have 
been  here !  Look  at  the  naked  footprints !  " 

Dick  rode  up  beside  him.     "  I  wonder!  "  he  said. 

Both  men  glanced  about  them.  "  Yonder  are  some 
clothes,  let's  pick  up  this  trail,"  suggested  Dick. 

"  By  Jove,  it's  Mrs.  von  Minden's  pink  wrapper!  " 
cried  Roger,  "  and  over  there  are  her  shoes." 

"  Rog,  we've  got  to  brace  ourselves,"  Dick  pulled 
up  his  horse.  "  When  folks  thirst  to  death  in  the 
desert,  they  often  strip  off  their  clothes  and  run  around 
in  a  big  circle." 

Roger  bit  his  dry  lips.  "  All  right,  Dick,  come  on," 
he  muttered. 

The  foot  marks  swung  in  a  wide  circle.  It  was  a 
mile  farther  on  that  they  found  the  madam,  stark 
naked,  her  gaunt  face  turned  to  the  sky.  She  too  had 
been  dead  for  many  days. 

"  I  don't  see  why  the  buzzards  didn't  get  her.  Her 
burro  wasn't  Peter,  he  deserted  her,"  murmured  Dick. 
"  Look,  Rog,  under  her  head." 

It  was  the  dispatch  box,  lightly  sifted  over  with  sand 
as  was  the  body. 


DEATH  IN  THE  DESERT  221 

"  What  do  you  suppose  happened?  "  asked  Roger. 

"  She  obviously  thirsted  to  death.  But  she  got 
the  box  first.  Do  you  suppose  she  killed  him,  to  get 
it?" 

"  Perhaps  she  found  him  dead  and  took  it,"  sug 
gested  Roger. 

"  Well,  we'll  never  know.  Let's  gather  up  what 
we  can  of  her  clothes  and  bury  her.  Poor  old  devil. 
Her  story's  ended,"  said  Dick. 

They  dug  Clarissa  von  Minden's  grave  and  put  her 
in  it,  then  Dick  pulled  a  prayer  book  from  his  pocket. 

"Charley  made  me  bring  it,"  he  explained.  "  I'm 
glad  of  it,  now.  Somehow  it  seems  worse  to  chuck  a 
woman  away  without  a  minister  to  help,  than  it  does 
a  man.  I  guess  she  did  some  tall  suffering,  from  first 
to  last,  eh  Rog?" 

Roger  nodded.  Dick  read  the  burial  service  rever 
ently  and  they  finished  this  gruesome  job.  Roger  tied 
the  little  black  metal  box  to  his  saddle  and  they  started 
on  their  way.  They  made  camp  in  the  mountains  that 
evening,  not  far  from  the  peak  that  sheltered  Von 
Minden.  They  had  ample  firewood  for  they  camped 
near  a  clump  of  cedars  and  they  went  hastily  through 
the  contents  of  the  dispatch  box,  by  the  light  of  the 
flames. 

There  was  no  marriage  certificate.  The  entire  box 
was  filled  with  notes  in  German  in  a  microscopic  hand. 
Roger  read  excerpts  of  it.  Von  Minden  seemed  to 
have  made  an  exhaustive  study  of  the  resources  of  this 
section  of  the  desert  and  of  the  north  of  Mexico. 

"  He  had  some  sort  of  a  huge  irrigation  scheme  in 
his  head,"  Roger  said.  "  He's  got  some  letters  copied 
in  here  and  a  lot  of  stuff.  We  ought  to  turn  this  over 


222  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

to  a  German  consul,  somewhere  and  let  him  notify  the 
proper  relations/' 

"  That  a  good  idea,"  agreed  Dick.  "  He  used  to 
tell  Charley  and  me  strange  things  when  he  was  off  his 
head.  Once  he  said  he  was  charting  this  region  for 
the  Kaiser.  The  poor  old  lunatic." 

"  His  ideas  were  not  so  crazy  as  they  might  be," 
protested  Roger.  "  I've  some  dreams  myself  for  this 
country,  you  know." 

"  What  are  they,  Rog?  "  asked  Dick.  "  I  know  in 
only  the  vaguest  way." 

"  If  I  can  irrigate  your  twenty-five  acres  with  my 
little  plant,  don't  you  see  that  I  have  proven  that  I  am 
able  to  tap  unlimited  cheap  power.  The  possibilities 
of  this  country  with  cheap  power  are  staggering.  I 
don't  blame  Von  Minden  for  calling  it  a  kingdom. 
That's  just  what  it  might  be,  with  the  mountains  of  the 
west  range  and  the  Rockies  to  the  east  forming 
natural  boundaries.  It  seems  as  if  a  kingdom  really 
could  be  self-supporting  in  here.  If  only  I  can  harness 
the  sun  to  a  cheap  apparatus  that  any  one  can  buy  and 
operate !  Why  all  these  ranges  would  be  studded  with 
going  mines.  Every  valley  would  be  green  with  grow 
ing  crops.  I  hardly  dare  let  my  imagination  go  on  it. 
Our  little  old  U.  S.  has  got  a  wonderful  unborn  com 
monwealth  down  here." 

"  Well,  your  dreaming  is  a  lot  more  practical  than 
his,  anyhow,"  said  Dick.  "  More  power  to  your  el 
bow,  old  man,  I  say." 

"  I  won't  forget  what  you  people  have  done  for 
me !  "  Roger  returned  the  papers  to  the  dispatch  box. 

They  found  the  crude  grave  intact,  the  next  morn 
ing.  They  were  able  with  the  aid  of  the  pick  to  make 


DEATH  IN  THE  DESERT  223 

a  shallow  trough  in  the  rock.  They  built  this  up  with 
stone  and  the  last  chapter  of  the  Von  Minden  story 
was  ended.  They  reached  home  at  dusk. 

Ernest  and  Roger  sat  before  the  tent  alone  that 
night  while  Gustav  wrote  a  letter  in  the  cook  house. 
The  heat  did  not  seem  to  have  lessened  much  with  the 
going  down  of  the  sun.  The  stars  low-hung  over  the 
engine  house  seemed  to  glow  with  fire  and  the  dark 
ness  was  like  a  hot  blanket  over  the  sand.  Ernest 
was  unusually  silent.  He  sat  with  his  pipe  un- 
lighted,  staring  at  the  stars  so  long  that  Roger  said,  at 
last: 

"Homesick,  Ern?" 

Ernest  grunted.  "  What  did  you  say  ?  Eh  —  no 
—  I  don't  think  so.  Say,  Roger,  old  man,  she's  re 
fused  me/' 

"  She  ?  Who  ?  What  are  you  talking  about, 
Ernest?" 

"  About  Charley.     Who  else  would  it  be?  " 

Roger  nearly  fell  off  the  box  on  which  he  was  sit 
ting.  "  Proposed  to  Charley  ?  Why,  you  weren't  in 
love  with  her,  were  you,  Ernest?  " 

"  You  great  nut !  Why  else  should  I  propose  to 
her?  Just  because  you  don't  admire  her  is  no  reason 
that  other  men  are  wooden  headed." 

"  I  never  said  I  didn't  admire  her,"  exclaimed  Roger. 

"  You  did.  You  said  you  didn't  care  for  big 
women." 

"  Did  I  ?  Well,  I  guess  I  don't.  But  I  never  think 
of  her  as  a  woman.  She's  just  like  a  fine  young 
fellow  that  you  want  for  a  friend." 

Ernest  grunted.  "  I  wouldn't  have  a  temperament 
like  yours  for  real  money,  Roger." 


224          THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  I  don't  see  that  yours  is  giving  you  much  joy  right 
now,  old  chap." 

"  Never  you  mind,"  returned  Ernest.  "  I'd  rather 
suffer  as  I  am  suffering  than  never  have  loved  her." 

Roger,  who  had  helped  his  friend  to  recover  from  a 
good  many  heart-breaks  patted  him  on  the  shoulder. 
"  Awfully  sorry,  old  Era." 

"  I  know  what  you're  thinking,"  said  Ernest,  "  but 
this  one  is  different,  just  as  she's  different.  I'll  never 
get  over  this.  You  realize  that  she's  different,  don't 
you,  you  wooden  image?  " 

Roger  answered  thoughtfully.  "  Yes,  Charley  is 
different.  I  really  like  her  very  much.  But  she's  like 
a  younger  brother,  so  clean-cut  and  direct  and  — " 
His  voice  trailed  away  to  nothing  as  suddenly  he 
thought  of  Charley's  hand  on  his  head,  that  memorable 
afternoon  in  the  engine  house.  Indeed,  he  wondered 
if  the  thought  of  that  touch  would  ever  leave  him. 
He  believed  that  it  would  become  as  much  a  part  of 
his  memory  as  his  mother's  gentle  touch. 

Finally,  Ernest  said,  "  If  it  weren't  for  you  and  the 
help  I  can  give  you,  I'd  go  home." 

"  You  are  hard  hit,  old  man !  Maybe  it'll  be  easier 
when  Elsa  comes." 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  will,"  replied  Ernest.  "  I  thought 
I'd  go  in  to-morrow  and  hang  around  Archer's  till  she 
gets  here.  You'll  be  tinkering  on  the  engine  and  won't 
miss  me.  Suppose  we  can  fix  up  Mrs.  von  Minden's 
tent  for  her,  instead  of  her  buying  a  new  one." 

"Good  idea!  But,  by  Jove,  the  thought  of  going 
to  Archer's  Springs  for  mental  distraction  is  either 
funny  or  pathetic !  I  don't  know  which.  I  hope  I  can 
have  a  test  of  the  plant  on  Monday." 


DEATH  IN  THE  DESERT  225 

"  So  do  I,"  replied  Ernest.  "'Guess  I'll  go  to  bed. 
Gustav's  blown  out  his  bug." 

"  I'm  with  you,"  agreed  Roger,  and  was  asleep  long 
before  Ernest  ceased  to  toss  in  the  hot  silence  of  the 
tent. 

It  was  late  Sunday  afternoon  when  dust  on  the  south 
trail  announced  the  coming  of  Elsa  and  Ernest. 
Gustav  and  Roger  had  given  the  entire  morning  to 
putting  the  camp  in  order.  Gustav  had  achieved  his 
chef-d'oeuvre  in  a  huge  "  welcome  "  made  of  yucca 
stalks  outlined  over  the  living  tent  door.  Roger  had 
given  Peter  to  Felicia  and  about  two  o'clock  she  ap 
peared,  riding  the  little  burro  whose  face  she  explained 
she  had  washed  with  soap  and  water  for  the  occasion. 
Charley  and  Dick  followed  not  long  after. 

For  the  first  time  Roger  realized  that  Charley's  iso 
lation  had  meant  more  to  her  than  she  allowed  any  of 
them  to  suspect.  She  nearly  wept  as  she  begged  that 
Elsa  be  permitted  to  stay  with  them  and  went  over  the 
living  tent  and  the  cook  tent  with  a  critical  eye.  When 
the  cloud  of  dust  appeared  upon  the  horizon  Roger 
saw  her  whiten  under  her  tan. 

"  Suppose  she  doesn't  like  me,"  she  exclaimed  sud 
denly  to  the  three  men.  "  Suppose  she  finds  me  rough 
and  stupid  after  all  these  years  of  hardship.  Oh,  what 
would  I  do!  The  first  woman  after  so  long! " 

"  Well,"  Dick's  voice  was  angry,  "  if  she  doesn't  like 
you  she's  a  fool,  that's  all." 

Tears  had  sprung  to  Gustav's  eyes.  "  She  vill  love 
you  on  sight,"  he  said  slowly. 

''  You  wait !  "  cried  Roger.  "  You  two  girls  were 
made  to  be  friends." 

Charley  gave  a  nervous  glance  at  her  khaki  clothing. 


226  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

The  men  did  not  know  that  the  day  before  she  had 
routed  out  a  white  frock,  the  remnant  of  her  college 
days  and  after  much  debate  with  herself,  had  rejected 
it.  It  was  of  a  bygone  date  and  fashion.  It  had  been 
worn  by  a  happy-go-lucky  college  girl,  who  had  little 
in  common  with  the  mature,  sun-burned,  wind-blown 
woman  who  looked  back  at  Charley  from  the  mirror. 

The  horses  plodded  slowly  through  the  sand.  Dick 
pulled  up  before  the  living  tent. 

"  She's  come!  Here  she  is!  "  shouted  Ernest,  as  if 
the  watching  group  in  the  burning  western  sun  could 
doubt  its  eyes.  Roger  lifted  Elsa  down  from  the 
wheel. 

"  Never  knew  I  could  be  so  glad  to  see  you,  Elsa," 
he  said.  "  And  you're  prettier  than  ever  even  if  your 
nose  is  peeling.  Look!  Here's  Charley  Preble  and 
Felicia  and  Dick  and  Gustav." 

Elsa,  freshly  burned,  but  with  her  silk  traveling  suit 
smart  in  spite  of  the  dust,  shook  hands  all  round. 

She  turned  back  from  Gustav  to  Charley  again,  and 
looked  at  her  with  frank  interest.  "  You  know,  Ernest 
never  told  me  what  to  wear,  so  I  didn't  bring  a  bit  of 
khaki.  Wasn't  I  foolish?  It  looks  just  right  down 
here." 

"  I've  some  extra  skirts  you  can  wear  till  you  can 
send  back  for  some,"  said  Charley.  "  Let's  go  into 
the  living  tent  out  of  this  heat  while  the  boys  unload." 

They  went  alone,  for  Felicia,  after  standing  in  an 
agony  of  indecision  for  a  moment  or  two,  decided  in 
favor  of  the  tantalizing  packages  in  the  wagon  box. 
The  girls  were  not  in  the  tent  long.  When  they  came 
out,  they  had  their  arms  about  each  other. 

"  Elsa's  going  up  to  the  house  with  me  and  get  a 


DEATH  IN  THE  DESERT  227 

bath  and  change  her  clothes.  We'll  be  down  for 
supper/'  said  Charley. 

There  was  a  flush  of  happiness  on  her  face  that  made 
Dick  say,  "  I  hope  you  stay  forever,  Elsa !  Come 
along!  I'll  take  the  team  up  and  your  trunk.  What 
do  you  want  done  with  the  cot  and  things,  Ernest?  " 

"  Never  mind  those,"  said  Elsa,  serenely.  "  I'm 
going  to  stay  with  Charley/' 

The  men  looked  at  each  other  speechlessly.  As  the 
wagon  rattled  off,  Roger  said  to  Ernest : 

"  They  were  in  that  tent  less  than  five  minutes. 
What  do  you  suppose  happened  ?  " 

Ernest  shook  his  head.  "  I've  given  up  trying  to 
understand  women.  Look  at  that  cot  and  the  lumber 
—  a  whole  darned  outfit,  and  I  nearly  killed  the  horses 
getting  the  mess  up  in  one  load  because  Elsa  insisted 
she'd  have  to  have  it  to-night.  Women !  " 


CHAPTER  XI 

DICK'S  SICKNESS 

A  LL  day  Monday,  Roger  and  his  two  helpers 
•**•  sweated  to  prepare  for  the  plant's  first  trial. 
Roger  would  let  no  one  touch  the  engine  but  himself, 
but  Ernest  and  Gustav  puttered  with  the  condenser 
and  the  pump  and  at  dawn  started  the  oil  circulating 
through  the  absorber.  All  day  long  the  burning  desert 
sun  poured  its  heat  through  the  glass  into  the  oil 
which  caught  and  imprisoned  it  for  Roger's  purpose, 
until  the  storage  pit  was  full.  Roger  had  set  the  time 
of  trial  as  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening  in  order  to  prove 
the  night  as  well  as  the  day  power  of  his  plant.  The 
Prebles  appeared  shortly  before  the  hour. 

"  Everything  O.  K.  ?  "  asked  Dick,  with  a  creditable 
effort  at  being  off-hand. 

"  One  never  knows  till  afterward,"  replied  Roger. 
"  Come  into  the  engine  house.  No  room  for  you, 
Peter,  old  man." 

There  were  three  "  bugs  "  lighted  over  the  engine. 
Ernest  and  Gustav  were  both  smoking  violently.  Dick 
was  chewing  gum.  Elsa  and  Charley  said  nothing  but 
watched  every  movement  on  the  part  of  the  men. 

"  Come  here,  Felicia,"  said  Roger,  biting  at  his  cold 
pipe.  "  You  see  this  little  valve  ?  All  right.  Now, 
as  I've  told  you  many  times,  I  hope  that  when  you  turn 

this,  that  the  sun  which  shone  to-day  will  turn  the 

228 


DICK'S  SICKNESS  229 

big  fly  wheel  round.  When  I  give  the  wheel  a  twist, 
you  turn  the  valve  clear  over." 

"  Yes,  Roger,"  replied  Felicia,  her  little  fingers 
quivering  as  she  grasped  the  valve. 

"  Now !  "  exclaimed  Roger,  tugging  at  the  fly-wheel. 

There  was  a  moment's  breathless  silence.  Then 
very  slowly  and  sedately,  the  fly  wheel  began  to  re 
volve,  gathered  speed  and  shortly  was  chugging  away 
steadily.  A  little  cheer  rose  from  Roger's  audience. 
He  grinned. 

"  Now  Ern,  let's  throw  in  the  pump."  A  belt,  con 
necting  the  engine  with  the  pump  outside,  was  quickly 
slipped  in  place.  The  engine  slowed  down.  But  a 
moment  later  the  sound  of  water  pouring  over  the 
condenser  pipes  was  heard  above  the  chugging  of  the 
engine  and  pump. 

Gustav  and  Ernest  fell  on  each  other's  necks.  "  It 
works !  "  squealed  Felicia.  "  It  works  and  I  helped 
make  it,  I  did."  Peter,  his  head  as  far  in  at  one  of  the 
windows  as  a  very  short  neck  would  carry  it,  brayed. 
Roger  watched  the  pressure  gauge  and  scratched  his 
head  thoughtfully. 

Charley  and  Felicia  slipped  outside  to  inspect  the 
pump,  and  Charley  called :  "  Does  anybody  smell 
anything?"  At  the  same  moment  Felicia  shrieked. 

"  Oh !  oh,  Roger !     There's  a  terrible  leak  out  here !  " 

Roger  shut  off  the  engine  and  followed  by  the  others, 
he  darted  to  the  condenser.  The  odor  of  sulphur  di 
oxide  filled  the  night. 

"  By  Jove,  it's  big  enough  to  lose  my  charge ! " 
groaned  Roger.  "  Bring  bugs,  everybody." 

Felicia,  "  bug  "  and  oil  can  in  hand,  was  running 
over  the  pipes  at  the  top  before  the  others  had  arrived. 


230  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Here  it  is,  Roger!     Oh,  an  awful  one.     There!  " 

The  leak  was  in  a  pipe  joint  at  the  top  of  the  stack. 
The  odor  grew  almost  unbearable.  For  half  an  hour 
the  men  wrestled  with  it,  turn  about,  and  at  last  suc 
ceeded  in  stopping  it.  Other  minor  leaks  occurred 
but  all  were  located  and  controlled.  Finally  Roger 
announced  all  safe  and  lighted  his  pipe.  In  the  flash 
of  the  match,  his  face  showed  tense  and  dripping  with 
sweat,  his  eyes  bloodshot  from  the  gas  fumes. 

"  Darn  the  leaks !  "  exclaimed  Elsa. 

"  Well,  it's  what  we'll  have  to  expect  as  long  as  I 
can't  afford  to  buy  bent  pipe  or  an  acetylene  welding 
outfit,"  said  Roger.  "  But  after  all,  the  leaks  are  the 
least  of  my  troubles." 

"  What  is  troubling  you?  "  asked  Charley  quickly. 

"  There  isn't  as  much  power  there  as  my  calcula 
tions  had  indicated  there  would  be." 

"  I  told  you  that  you  were  running  pretty  close  on 
your  absorption  area,"  exclaimed  Ernest.  "  You  see 
your  temperature  readings  have  been  lower  right  along 
down  here  than  that  table  we  had  up  in  the  laboratory 
for  this  region." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  increase  the  absorption  area 
in  order  to  get  more  power.  It's  a  clumsy  solution. 
It  makes  the  plant  too  large  and  too  high  priced.  The 
solution  to  the  problem  lies  in  making  that  engine  more 
efficient."  Roger  sighed. 

"  Now  don't  change  your  engine  design,  Roger !  " 
cried  Ernest.  "  That  is  a  peach  and  has  been  for 
years." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  replied  Roger.  "  But  there's  a  pos 
sibility  that  you  and  the  Dean  and  I  have  been  too  com 
placent  about  that  engine." 


DICK'S  SICKNESS  231 

"Gee,  but  you're  a  regular  pessimist,  Rog!"  ex 
claimed  Dick. 

"  No,  I'm  not.  No  inventor  is.  I'm  just  open 
minded.  And  don't  think  I'm  blue,  either.  If  I 
weren't  so  heckled  and  worried  by  the  time  and  money 
element  I'd  be  having  the  time  of  my  life.  Wouldn't 
I,  Felicia,  honey?  " 

There  was  no  answer.  Felicia,  with  the  oil  can 
hugged  tight  against  her  middy,  was  curled  up  on  the 
work  bench,  fast  asleep. 

"  Well,  it  seems  to  me  I'd  better  take  my  family 
home,"  said  Dick.  "Where's  the  rest  of  my  harem? 
Elsa!  Charley!  Come  with  papa." 

By  eleven  o'clock  the  camp  was  quiet.  Roger 
prowled  about  the  condenser  a  bit,  covered  the  engine 
with  canvas  and  then  went  to  bed.  It  had  been  a  hard 
day  and  none  of  the  three  men  were  wakened  by  the 
smell  of  sulphur  dioxide  that  began  to  hang  over  the 
camp  at  midnight.  The  dawn  wind  blew  most  of  it 
away,  but  when  Gustav  rose  to  get  breakfast,  he  sniffed 
suspiciously  and  called  Roger.  They  traced  a  leak  in 
the  lower  tier.  Half  the  charge  had  evaporated  dur 
ing  the  night. 

"  At  least  two  weeks  before  we  get  more  and  a  chunk 
out  of  the  precious  grub  money,"  groaned  Ernest  at 
breakfast. 

"Patience!  Patience!"  exclaimed  Gustav.  "I'll 
start  to  Archer's  Spring  mit  the  empty  drums  to-mor 
row." 

Roger,  who  had  been  bolting  his  breakfast  in  silence, 
suddenly  set  down  his  coffee  cup.  Patience !  He  had 
told  Charley  that  he  was  a  patient  man.  Yet  every 
muscle  of  his  body  at  the  moment  was  twitching  with 


232  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

impatience.  He  acknowledged  this  to  himself,  then 
said  aloud : 

"  No  use  getting  nervous,  boys,  I'm  not.  You  get 
the  new  charge,  Gustav.  I'll  leave  that  in  your  hands 
and  think  no  more  about  it.  I'm  going  over  my  heat 
tables  again." 

"  I'll  help  you  check  over,"  said  Ernest. 

"  If  you  don't  mind  I'd  rather  grind  for  a  few  days 
on  it  alone.  I  can  think  better  that  way.  Then  I'll  go 
over  the  results  with  you." 

"  All  right,"  returned  Ernest,  with  his  usual  good 
nature.  "  Gustav  and  I'll  offer  our  services  to  Dick 
to-day  on  his  new  field.  Do  increase  your  absorbing 
area,  Roger ! " 

Roger  shook  his  head.  "  That's  an  awkward  and 
expensive  solution.  The  answer's  in  the  engine !  " 

He  began  to  figure  on  an  old  envelope.  When  this 
was  covered,  he  continued  his  calculations  on  the  mar 
gin  of  an  old  newspaper  spread  over  the  work  house 
table.  Long  after  Gustav  and  Ernest  had  gone  about 
their  day's  business  Elsa  found  him  here,  sweating  in 
the  Stirling  glare  from  the  sun  and  sand,  hair  dishev 
eled,  shirt  open  at  the  throat.  Elsa  looked  almost  cool 
in  comparison  in  her  soft  white  blouse  and  one  of  Char 
ley's  khaki  skirts. 

"  Well,  Roger,"  she  exclaimed,  "  hasn't  your  cook 
the  decency  to  wash  the  breakfast  dishes  for  you?  " 

"  It  does  look  rotten,  doesn't  it?  "  said  Roger,  star 
ing  vaguely  around  the  kitchen.  "  But  the  cook 
seems  to  be  on  a  strike  and  I  forgot  to  clean  things 
up." 

"  If  you'll  get  out  of  the  way,  I'll  do  it."  Elsa  be 
gan  to  roll  up  her  sleeves. 


DICK'S  SICKNESS  233 

"  It's  too  hot  now.  Wait  until  late  afternoon,"  sug 
gested  Roger,  glancing  from  his  papers  out  to  the  yel 
low  waves  of  heat  dancing  from  sand  to  deep  blue  of 
sky. 

"  I  can  stand  the  heat  if  Charley  can,"  returned  Elsa. 
"  She's  baking  bread  and  cookies.  The  thermometer 
on  the  porch  says  112°.  I  should  judge  that  it  was 
about  190°  in  her  kitchen.  Rog,  do  you  know  that 
she's  a  highly  educated  girl?  Why  do  you  suppose 
she's  throwing  her  life  away  down  here,  cut  off  from 
everything?  " 

Roger  looked  up  from  his  figures  with  a  little  sigh 
of  resignation. 

"What  did  you  say,  Elsa?" 

Elsa  smiled  but  repeated  her  inquiry. 

"  She's  not  wasting  her  life,"  replied  Roger.  "  This 
is  really  a  superb  country  and  she  takes  to  pioneering 
like  a  fine  boy.  This  is  about  the  last  big  adventure 
there  is  in  America,  this  desert  pioneering." 

"  Like  a  boy!  "  sniffed  Elsa.  "  Roger,  you're  hope 
less  !  She's  just  the  most  womanly  woman  I  ever  met 
—  and  one  of  the  saddest.  She's  got  some  trouble  on 
her  mind." 

"  Aw  shucks,  Elsa !  Don't  try  to  make  Charley  out 
temperamental.  She's  not  and  that's  why  she's  such 
a  pal  to  us  fellows.  Wholesome  and  clean-cut  and 
direct,  that's  Charley." 

"  Oh,  well,  have  it  your  own  way,  stupid !  Only,  go 
on  over  to  the  living  tent  while  I  clean  up  here."  This 
with  a  curious  glance  at  Roger's  preoccupied  eyes; 
those  fine,  steady,  clear-seeing  eyes,  that  saw  so  much 
and  so  little  of  life. 

"  Just  one  thing  more,  Roger,"  she  said.     He  paused 


234  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

in  the  doorway  and  looked  at  her  with  a  smile.  "  Yes, 
ma'am." 

"  Ernest  told  me  on  the  way  out  about  your  money 
troubles.  I  don't  want  you  to  worry  about  the  cost 
of  keeping  me.  I  can  pay  my  way.  I  had  to  come 
against  Papa's  wishes,  of  course,  but  I  had  my  own  lit 
tle  chunk  of  savings  and  Mamma  had  a  little.  And  I 
just  made  up  my  mind  I  was  going  to  get  away  from 
home  for  a  while  if  it  was  the  last  act  of  my  life.  And 
I  know  I  can  do  lots  of  things  to  make  you  all  com 
fortable." 

"  I'm  as  glad  as  I  can  be  to  have  you  here,  Elsa. 
And  after  all  you  folks  have  done  for  me,  it  makes  me 
sick  not  to  be  able  to  do  everything  for  you.  But  I 
swear  I'm  right  up  against  it.  Some  day  I'll  make  it 
all  up  to  you  and  Ern.  See  if  I  don't.  If  you  can 
keep  homesick  old  Ern  bucked  up  you'll  be  doing  your 
bit.  Your  father  need  have  had  no  fear.  Ern'll  be 
back  in  the  University  when  this  is  done  contented  to 
teach  the  rest  of  his  life." 

"  I  know  it.     And  how  about  you,  Roger  ?  " 

"  Me  ?  Oh,  I've  struck  my  gait  down  here.  I'm 
going  to  follow  heat  problems  round  the  world,  see  if 
I  don't." 

He  looked  off  over  the  desert  with  a  glow  in  his  face 
that  the  girl  never  had  seen  there  before.  She  gave  a 
wistful  little  sigh,  and  began  to  unroll  the  kitchen 
apron  she  had  brought  under  her  arm. 

"  Run  along  while  I  try  to  make  the  place  fit  for 
white  people  to  live  in,"  she  said. 

It  was  a  comfort  to  have  a  woman  about  the  camp. 
The  three  men  testified  to  this  at  supper  time  as  they 
ate  the  meal  she  had  prepared  in  an  immaculate  kitchen. 


DICK'S  SICKNESS  235 

That  evening  after  Roger  had  taken  Elsa  back  up  to 
the  ranch,  Ernest  decided  he  would  accompany  Gustav 
into  Archer's  to  get  some  khaki  for  Elsa  and  to  en 
deavor  to  locate  some  sulphur  dioxide  by  telegraph. 
Elsa  announced  that  although  she  would  sleep  and  take 
breakfast  at  the  ranch  she  would  spend  the  day  at  the 
Plant  as  housekeeper. 

It  was  perhaps  four  o'clock  the  next  afternoon,  that 
Roger,  at  work  in  the  engine  house,  saw  Felicia  half 
running,  half  plodding  through  the  sand.  Elsa,  sew 
ing  in  the  living  tent,  saw  her  at  the  same  time. 

"  What  can  they  mean  by  letting  her  come  out  in 
this  awful  heat  ?  "  she  called  to  Roger. 

Roger  made  no  reply  but  shouted  to  Felicia,  "  Don't 
run,  child !  It's  too  hot !  " 

Felicia's  answer  was  to  quicken  her  pace.  With  a 
sudden  sense  of  apprehension  Roger  went  to  meet  her. 
Felicia  was  sobbing  when  he  reached  her.  He  lifted 
her  in  his  arms. 

"What  is  it,  sweetheart?" 

Felicia  was  almost  beyond  words.  "  Dicky  —  he's 
—  sick  again !  And  —  he  yelled  at  me  —  and  slapped 
me,  and  he  knocked  Charley  over  with  his  fist.  And  I 
ran  away  —  to  you  — " 

Roger's  lips  stiffened.  Elsa  had  joined  them  and 
as  he  set  Felicia  down,  he  said  hurriedly,  "  Take  her 
into  the  tent.  Cool  her  down  gradually.  Keep  her 
there  till  I  come." 

And  he  set  off  as  fast  as  he  dared  in  the  burning 
sun.  As  he  neared  the  ranch  house,  he  could  hear 
Dick's  incoherent  shouts  and  as  he  ran  up  the  trail, 
Dick  appeared  on  the  porch. 

"  Get  out  of  here,  Roger !  "  he  roared,  thickly. 


236  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Roger  ran  up  the  steps.     "  Where's  Charley?'' 

Dick  planted  himself  belligerently  in  the  doorway, 
"  Get  out ! "  Roger  moved  slowly  toward  him.  A 
heavy  odor  of  cologne  enveloped  Dick.  A  quick  sur 
mise  flashed  over  Roger. 

"  Felicia  needs  Charley,  Dick,  I've  got  to  fetch  her/' 

"Get  out!"  repeated  Dick  sullenly.  He  gave  a 
lunge  toward  Roger  and  Roger  met  him-  with  a  quick 
undercut  on  the  jaw  that  laid  Dick  flat.  He  dragged 
him  down  the  trail  to  the  seed  and  tool  shack,  where  he 
turned  the  heavy  button  on  the  door.  Then  he  ran 
into  the  house. 

Charley  lay  on  the  floor,  her  hair  in  disorder  about 
her.  Roger,  with  an  oath,  stooped  over  her,  then  ran 
for  a  cup  of  water  and  bathed  her  face.  In  a  moment 
she  opened  her  eyes.  Roger's  own  eyes  were  black 
with  excitement  but  he  met  her  puzzled  gaze  with  a 
twisted  smile, 

"  There  you  are,  Charley !     Where  are  you  hurt  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer  but  struggled  to  rise  and  Roger 
putting  an  arm  under  her  shoulder  helped  her  to  her 
feet  where  she  leaned  dizzily  against  him,  for  a  mo 
ment,  shoulder  to  shoulder. 

"  Where's  Felicia,  Roger?  " 

"  Safe  with  Elsa  at  the  Plant.  Sit  down  here  on  the 
couch,  Charley.  Where  did  Dick  strike  you  ?  " 

"He  —  he  —  where  is  he,  Roger?"  clinging  sud 
denly  to  Roger's  hand  as  he  laid  her  back  on  the  couch. 

"  Locked  in  the  tool  house.  Charley,  you  must  tell 
me  what  happened  so  I  can  help  you." 

"  Why  — he  —  he  pushed  me  backward  and  I  must 
have  hit  something  when  I  fell.  The  back  of  my 


DICK'S  SICKNESS  237 

head  is  very  sore  and  my  head  aches  terribly  —  and 
I'm  a  little  sick  at  my  stomach/' 

"  Let  me  see  your  head,"  said  Roger  peremptorily. 
He  parted  the  mass  of  bronze  brown  hair,  wondering 
even  in  his  anger  and  pity  at  its  softness  and  thickness. 
It  was  not  difficult  to  locate  the  great  lump  at  the  base 
of  the  skull. 

"  He  might  have  killed  you  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
your  hair.  The  skin  isn't  broken.  Be  still,  Charley, 
till  I  get  a  basin  of  water  and  a  towel." 

He  was  back  in  a  moment  and  sitting  down  on  the 
edge  of  the  couch,  he  attempted  to  bathe  the  swelling. 
But  Charley  groaned  in  agony  at  the  first  touch,  so  he 
gave  that  up  and  bathed  her  face  and  wrist  awkwardly 
but  very  gently. 

"  I  guess  it's  my  turn  to  say  *  Poor  Child,'  "  Roger 
murmured. 

The  quick  tears  sprang  to  Charley's  eyes.  At  this 
moment  Dick  gave  an  incoherent  shout.  Charley 
gripped  Roger's  hand. 

"  It's  all  right,"  he  said.  "  He  can't  get  out,  the 
whelp !  " 

"  Roger !  Don't  hurt  him.  Promise  me  you  won't 
hurt  him!  " 

"  Hurt  him !  "  Roger  burst  forth.  "  How  can  you 
be  so  foolish!  He  ought  to  be  beaten  within  an  inch 
of  his  life.  He's  gotten  drunk  on  cologne!" 

"  Roger,  he's  never  been  this  bad  before.  He's  been 
growing  slowly  better  all  these  years.  He  never  struck 
me  before." 

"  And  you've  been  living  with  a  drunkard  all  these 
years  who  might  have  killed  you.  You  knew  this,  yet 


238  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

you  let  little  Felicia  come  to  you.  How  could  you  do 
it  ?  "  Roger  paced  up  and  down  the  floor. 

Charley  looked  at  him  piteously,  but  he  went  on,  his 
voice  growing  louder. 

"  You  must  know  that  a  periodic  drunkard  is  the 
worst  kind  and  almost  never  cured.  I  thought  you 
were  unafraid  of  truth,  but  you've  been  living  just 
like  a  sentimental  woman,  after  all." 

Charley  raised  her  hands  and  dropped  them  as  if 
in  despair.  "  I  promised  mother  I'd  never  leave  him. 
And  he's  put  up  a  fight.  Oh,  you'll  never  know  what 
a  fight !  And  I  love  him.  He's  a  dear  when  he's  not 
drinking." 

Dick  roared  again  and  Roger  stared  at  Charley's 
sick  white  face. 

"  Promise  me  you  won't  hurt  him,  Roger." 

"  How  can  I  promise  when  I  know  if  I  get  another 
glimpse  of  him  I'll  break  every  bone  in  his  carcass?" 

Again  Charley  dropped  her  hands  with  that  despair 
ing  gesture.  "  Then  how  can  I  help  fearing  your 
dreadful  temper  as  much  as  I  do  Dick's  drinking? 
What  difference  is  there?  " 

Roger  jumped  as  if  she  had  struck  him.  "  You 
can't  mean  that!  You're  sick  and  unstrung  and  don't 
know  what  you're  saying.  I'll  go  after  Ern." 

"  I  have  to  mean  it,"  insisted  Charley  wearily, 
"  after  seeing  you  that  time  with  Gustav." 

"  I'm  not  like  Dick !  "  shouted  Roger.  "  I  wouldn't 
touch  a  woman  or  a  child !  " 

"  How  do  you  know  you  wouldn't?  "  asked  Charley. 

A  sudden  burning  recollection  of  the  little  boy  who 
had  struck  his  mother's  hand  from  his  shoulder  flashed 
through  Roger's  mind.  He  groaned  and  dropped  his 


DICK'S  SICKNESS  239 

head.  Charley  did  not  speak  and  for  some  moments 
Roger  did  not  move.  Then  he  came  over  to  the  couch 
and  said  quietly: 

"  I'll  not  hurt  Dick.  Where  did  he  get  the  cologne, 
Charley?" 

"  He  must  have  found  it  in  Elsa's  room.  I  didn't 
know  she  had  it,  or  I'd  have  put  it  away.  And  now, 
every  one  will  know!  Oh,  Roger,  must  they  all 
know?" 

"  I  don't  see  how  it  can  be  helped.  But  you  can  be 
sure  none  of  us  will  say  more  than  has  to  be  said. 
Charley,  I'm  going  to  get  Peter  and  take  you  down  to 
the  Plant  for  the  night.  You  need  absolute  rest  and 
quiet  and  you  can't  get  it  so  near  Dick." 

"And  Dick?" 

"  Dick  must  fend  for  himself  in  the  tool  shack. 
I'll  put  a  canteen  of  water  and  a  blanket  in  there  and 
by  morning  he'll  be  ready  for  conversation." 

"  But  he  won't  be.  Drink  makes  him  terribly  sick. 
His  stomach  is  very  bad.  That's  why  I  always  say 
it's  stomach  trouble.  He  ought  to  be  taken  care  of 
to-night." 

"  He'll  stay  where  he  is  and  by  himself,"  said  Roger, 
grimly.  "  When  I  have  a  temper  fit  the  next  time,  you 
can  do  the  same  by  me.  Lord,  I'm  glad  Elsa  is  here ! 
You  lie  quiet  while  I  go  milk." 

When  he  had  put  the  milk  away  he  found  that 
Charley  had  braided  her  hair  but  was  still  very  white 
and  shaken.  Dick's  shouts  and  curses  floated  in  at  the 
open  door.  Roger  tied  the  little  bundle  of  night  things 
she  had  made  up  to  the  saddle  and  helped  her  to  mount. 
She  swayed  dizzily  and  he  put  a  strong,  steadying  arm 
about  her.  They  made  their  way  very  slowly  and 


240  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Roger  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  when  they  were  finally 
beyond  ear  shot  of  poor  Dick. 

Elsa  met  them  a  short  distance  from  the  camp. 
"  Hello,  Charley,"  she  said.  "  Felicia  has  just  fallen 
asleep." 

Roger  nodded  and  at  the  living-tent  door,  helped 
Charley  from  the  saddle.  "  Get  this  patient  to  sleep 
too,  Elsa,  if  you  can." 

Elsa's  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  she  looked  at  Charley. 
"  You  poor  dear,"  she  said,  "  come  and  let  me  take 
care  of  you." 

One  touch  of  a  woman's  sympathy,  after  her  starved 
years,  was  too  much  for  Charley.  She  burst  into  deep 
drawn  sobs.  Elsa,  motioning  Roger  away,  put  her 
arm  about  the  girl  and  led  her  into  the  tent. 

Roger  paced  up  and  down  in  the  sand  for  a  while, 
listening  to  the  low  despairing  sobs  from  the  tent. 
Then  he  unsaddled  Peter  and  put  a  huge  bottle  of 
water  to  heat.  He  had  heard  somewhere  that  women 
took  great  comfort  in  a  cup  of  tea. 

Roger  passed  rather  a  restless  night.  He  had  put 
Elsa's  cot  which  she  never  had  used,  in  the  living  tent 
so  that  Elsa  could  be  close  to  her  two  patients,  and  him 
self  put  in  the  night  in  Gustav's  shack  which  was  built 
against  the  kitchen  tent. 

It  was  early  July  and  the  summer's  heat  was  at  its 
height.  Three  times  between  midnight  and  dawn 
Roger  scratched  a  match  and  looked  at  the  thermom 
eter.  It  never  registered  below  1 18°.  Even  the  night 
wind  did  not  rise.  The  silence  of  the  desert  was  com 
plete  as  though  torridity  had  overwhelmed  every  other 
aspect  of  nature.  The  stars  were  magnificent  and  for 
an  hour  or  so,  hoping  to  find  the  air  outside  cooler, 


DICK'S  SICKNESS  241 

Roger  put  a  blanket  on  the  work  bench  near  the  con 
denser  and  lay  there,  his  face  to  the  sky. 

He  wanted  to  keep  his  mind  fastened  lucidly  on  his 
engine  problem,  but  he  found  it  impossible  to  put  away 
the  events  of  the  day.  Dick's  bestial  voice,  Charley's 
white,  proud  face,  little  Felicia's  clinging  arms,  Char 
ley's  sobs  from  the  living  tent  and  her  bitter  words 
concerning  his  temper.  These  words  he  pondered  un 
willingly  for  some  time,  following  with  his  eye  the 
constellations  of  the  Great  Bear.  Finally  he  rolled  on 
his  face  with  a  groan.  Perhaps  she  was  right.  God 
knew  though  that  he'd  fought  the  red  demon  within 
him.  After  a  time  he  rolled  back.  Felicia  had  not 
wakened  for  her  supper.  She  had  slept  straight 
through.  It  was  a  great  pity,  he  thought,  that  she 
should  have  seen  Dick  drunk,  that  she  should  have 
seen  him  knock  Charley  down.  He  wondered  if  there 
were  any  way  he  could  make  her  forget  it.  Then  with 
a  deep  flush  in  the  starlight  he  wished  to  God  she  had 
not  seen  him  lose  his  temper  like  a  fool  Felicia !  ten 
der,  high  strung  little  Felicia ! 

At  last  when  the  stars  were  growing  dim,  Roger  fell 
asleep.  He  rose  at  sunrise,  and  went  up  to  the  ranch. 
Dick  was  lying  on  the  adobe  floor  of  the  tent  house, 
evidently  very  sick  and  very  cross. 

"  How'd  I  come  in  here  ?  Send  Charley  to  me !  " 
he  snarled. 

"  I  will,  like  thunder,  you  drunken  bum !  You  did 
your  best  to  beat  up  both  of  your  sisters.  I'm  going 
to  keep  them  at  the  Sun  Plant  until  some  new  arrange 
ment  can  be  made.  The  best  I  can  do  for  you  is  to 
leave  this  door  open.  Fend  for  yourself,  hang  you!  " 
And  Roger  walked  off  to  do  the  milking. 


242  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

When  he  had  finished  milking  he  glanced  in  at  the 
open  door  of  the  tool  house.  Dick  lay  where  Roger 
had  left  him,  staring  with  eyes  of  feverish  agony  at 
the  roof  above  his  head.  Roger,  without  a  word, 
went  back  to  the  plant.  To  his  relief,  Felicia  appeared 
at  the  breakfast  table,  very  hungry  and  quite  herself. 
But  Charley  was  not  able  to  get  up.  It  seemed  as  if 
the  long  years  of  strain  had  culminated  in  yesterday's 
events,  and  that  Charley  had  no  will-power  left. 

The  girl  lay  on  Ernest's  cot,  the  tent  flap  lifted  be 
side  her,  with  no  apparent  desire  save  to  stare  at  the 
desert  dancing  in  heat  waves  against  the  sky.  What 
thoughts  were  passing  behind  those  quiet  brown  eyes, 
no  one  knew. 

It  was  mid-morning  when  Roger  went  in  to  see  her. 
He  pulled  a  box  up  beside  the  cot.  "  Well,  old  dear," 
he  said.  "  How  is  the  head?  " 

Charley  smiled.  "  Sore  and  aching,  but  better  than 
during  the  night.  I  am  so  tired  and  that's  very  un 
usual.  I'm  always  so  strong." 

Roger  nodded.  "  It  was  a  bad  knock,  to  leave  you 
senseless  for  half  an  hour.  I  suspect  you  ought  to 
take  pretty  good  care  of  yourself  for  several  days. 
I've  been  talking  with  Elsa  and  she  thinks  you  ought 
to  stay  here  for  a  few  days.  And  I  do  too.  Don't 
worry  about  Dick.  I  saw  him  this  morning  and  he'll 
be  himself  by  sun-down.  And  I've  promised  Elsa  I 
won't  see  him  again  until  after  she  does." 

Charley  eyed  Roger's  long  brown  face  as  if  taking 
in  the  full  significance  of  all  he  had  said.  Then  she 
gave  a  little  sigh  of  relief. 

"  If  I  could  rest  here  in  this  peaceful  tent,  just  for 
a  day  or  two." 


DICK'S  SICKNESS  243 

"  The  tent's  all  right  at  night,  but  I've  moved  Gus- 
tav's  cot  into  the  engine  house,  and  I'm  going  to  help 
you  over  there.  It's  ten  degrees  cooler  than  here. 
Elsa  and  FeMcia  are  established  there  and  I  won't  dis 
turb  you  for  I'm  drawing,  which  act  is  noiseless." 

In  a  dim  corner  of  the  adobe  engine  house  in  Gus- 
tav's  cot  Charley  spent  the  day.  Elsa,  when  she  was 
not  playing  housekeeper  sat  beside  her  with  her  sew 
ing  and  Felicia  visited  between  the  cot  and  Roger's 
drawing  board. 

Once  when  Charley  seemed  to  be  in  an  uneasy  sleep, 
Felicia  asked  Roger,  "  Is  Charley  very  sick?  " 

"Not  really  sick  at  all,  chicken.  She's  just  tired. 
She's  worked  too  hard  for  you  and  Dick." 

Felicia  stared  at  him  with  her  innocent,  speculative 
gaze  so  like  Charley's,  yet  so  unlike. 

"  Can't  we  live  here  with  you,  instead  of  up  at  the 
ranch,  Roger.  I  know  Charley  would  like  it  better/' 

'  You  can  stay  and  make  us  a  visit,  anyhow.  Then 
we'll  see." 

At  sunset,  after  the  dishes  were  finished  and  Charley 
had  moved  back  to  the  living  tent  for  the  night,  Elsa 
went  up  to  the  ranch  house.  She  was  gone  a  long 
time.  Charley  was  dozing  and  Felicia  asleep.  Roger 
prowled  up  and  down  the  camp  closely  followed  by 
Peter  until  he  could  bear  the  suspense  no  longer.  A 
sudden  fear  that  Dick  might  have  discovered  more 
liquor  somewhere  started  him  along  the  ranch  trail. 
He  met  Elsa  just  as  the  afterglow  disappeared  and  the 
parching  night  came  down  like  a  star  dotted  curtain. 
She  came  trudging  through  the  sand  as  if  she  were 
tired. 

"  It    does   seem    as    if    I'd    wilt   with   the   heat/' 


244  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

she  exclaimed.  '  You  needn't  have  worried  about 
me,  Roger.  Dick  came  back  with  me  till  we  saw 
you." 

"  He  did,  huh !  Then  he's  neither  drunk  nor 
dead?" 

"  Rog!  Don't  say  such  awful  things  about  the  poor 
fellow." 

"  Poor  fellow !  You  didn't  see  Charley  lying  on  the 
floor  as  I  did.  Well,  what  has  he  to  say  for  himself?  " 

"  He's  in  an  awful  state  of  mind.  He  was  trying 
to  cook  some  supper  when  I  got  there.  He'd  succeeded 
in  milking.  When  he  saw  me,  he  gasped.  f  Is  Char 
ley  sick? '  and  dropped  the  kettle  of  water  he  was  lift- 
ing." 

"  I  told  him  just  what  you  had  seen  and  what  an  ex 
hausted  state  Charley's  nerves  seemed  to  be  in.  He 
just  stood  and  took  it  looking  like  a  sick  cat.  When  I 
had  finished  he  asked  what  you  had  said  and  I  told  him 
and  he  sort  of  groaned,  '  You  women  should  have  let 
Roger  beat  me  to  death.  Wrhy  did  you  interfere?' 
Poor  Dick!" 

Elsa  drew  a  long  breath  and  was  silent  for  a  mo 
ment  before  she  began  again.  "  He's  in  a  most  awful 
frame  of  mind.  He's  like  a  man  who  knows  he  has 
fits  of  insanity  and  feels  perfectly  helpless  to  prevent 
them.  He  cried  and  cried  while  he  told  me  how  he 
had  fought  drink.  I  never  knew  any  one  could  suffer 
so.  He's  much  more  to  be  pitied  than  Charley." 

"Huh!  Women!"  grunted  Roger.  "Why,  he's 
just  the  usual  thing  in  drunks,  you  little  ninny. 
What' s  he  going  to  do?  " 

"  Well,  I  want  Charley  to  give  him  one  more 
chance." 

"  I  thought  so !     Well,  he  doesn't  get  it." 


DICK'S  SICKNESS  245 

"  But,  Roger,  you  can't  prevent  it.  And  he's  not 
going  into  Archer's  Springs  again.  He's  going  to  let 
us  do  his  errands.  That's  where  the  trouble  has  been." 

"  Except  when  he  drinks  cologne." 

"  What  makes  you  so  hard,  Roger  ?  " 

"  I  saw  Charley  lying  where  Dick  had  knocked  her 
down.  And  I  felt  little  Felicia  almost  in  convulsions 
from  fear.  Let  him  keep  out  of  my  sight  until  I  can 
forget  that." 

"  Of  course,  all  I  can  do  is  to  advise,  anyhow,"  said 
Elsa.  "  Dick  is  coming  down  in  the  morning  and  take 
his  medicine.  He  insists  on  it.  He's  a  fine  man, 
Roger,  in  many  ways." 

"  You've  not  seen  him  drunk/'  returned  Roger. 
"  Commend  me  to  a  woman  every  time  for  sentimen 
tality." 

"  There  are  other  weaknesses  men  have  than  drunk 
enness  that  their  sentimentality  helps  women  to  endure, 
aren't  there,  Roger?"  asked  Elsa  quietly.  Roger 
dropped  Elsa's  arm  and  left  her  without  a  word. 

He  was  at  work  in  the  engine  house,  the  next  morn 
ing  when  Dick  came  slowly  down  the  trail  and  was  led 
by  Elsa  into  the  living  tent.  Then  she  went  off  to  the 
cook  tent  with  Felicia.  Roger,  working  with  strained 
concentration  on  his  engine,  heard  on  the  one  side  the 
low  murmur  of  Dick's  and  Charley's  voices  and  on  the 
other  Felicia's  occasional  happy  laugh  above  Elsa's  lit 
tle  songs.  After  perhaps  an  hour,  Dick  came  out  and 
went  to  the  cook  tent  and  in  a  moment  Felicia  came 
flying  into  the  engine  house  and  threw  her  arms  around 
Roger. 

"  I  won't  stay  where  Dicky  is,"  she  panted.  "  I 
won't!" 


246  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

The  child  was  trembling  violently.  Roger  sat  down 
and  held  her  to  his  heart. 

"  Dick  won't  hurt  you,  honey,  now.  It's  only  when 
he's  sick." 

Felicia  shuddered.  "  He  slapped  me  and  he 
knocked  Charley  over  with  his  fist  and  in  the  night  I 
dream  about  it.  I  am  going  to  live  with  you.  You 
won't  get  mad  again  like  you  did  with  Gustav,  will  you, 
Roger?" 

Roger  bowed  his  forehead  on  the  soft  bronze  brown 
head  that  rested  so  confidently  on  his  breast. 

"  You  do  love  poor  old  Roger,  don't  you,  sweet 
heart  ?  "  he  asked,  brokenly. 

As  if  she  sensed  some  secret  pain,  Felicia  turned  and 
put  her  arms  about  him  and  kissed  him  softly  on  the 
lips.  "  I  love  you  as  much  as  I  do  Charley.  Don't 
send  me  back  to  Dicky,  dearest  Roger." 

"  I  won't."     Roger's  lips  tightened  grimly. 

Charley  came  out  to  lunch  that  noon,  looking  much 
stronger. 

"  I'm  so  grateful  to  you,  Roger  and  Elsa,"  she  said, 
"and  after  I've  helped  with  the  dishes,  if  you'll  loan 
me  Peter,  we'll  go  home." 

Roger  dropped  his  knife  and  fork,  then  looked 
at  Felicia.  "  Felicia,  you  know  Roger's  trunk  ? 
Well,  if  you'll  run  to  the  living  tent  and  open  the  trunk 
and  take  all  the  things  out  of  it,  at  the  very  bottom 
you'll  find  some  Christmas  cake  Elsa  made  last  year. 
Then  put  all  the  things  back  carefully  and  bring  the 
cake  here." 

Felicia  gave  an  ecstatic  "  Oh,  Roger!"  and  disap 
peared.  Roger  turned  to  Charley. 

'*  I'm  going  to  say  one  more  thing.     Do  you  real- 


DICK'S  SICKNESS  247 

ize  fully  that  in  living  with  Dick  you  jeopardize  both 
yours  and  Felicia's  lives  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  Roger !  He  never  touched  us  before.  It 
was  the  poison  in  that  cologne." 

Roger  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  How  can  you  be  so  hard  ? "  pleaded  Charley. 
"  Dick's  my  own  flesh  and  blood.  It  might  have  been 
I  instead  of  Dick  with  this  appetite.  You're  hard, 
Roger." 

"  I'm  not  hard.  I'm  disappointed.  I  didn't  think 
you  were  a  sentimentalist." 

"  I  wonder,"  exclaimed  Elsa,  "  how  women  will  ever 
get  time  to  vote  when  it  takes  all  their  time  to  make 
men  endurable  to  live  with.  My  word!  I'm  glad  I 
haven't  one  of  the  critters !  " 

She  said  this  with  such  heartfelt  sincerity  that  Char 
ley  laughed  and  Roger  joined  her.  By  the  time  Fe 
licia  came  running  back  with  the  Christmas  cake,  the 
atmosphere  was  considerably  lighter. 

"  We're  going  home,  Felicia !  Aren't  you  glad  I'm 
well  again?"  said  Charley.  "  And  haven't  the  Sun 
Planters  been  kind  ?  " 

Felicia  whitened  under  her  tan. 

"  Oh,  but,  Charley,  I'm  not  going.  I  don't  have  to, 
do  I,  Roger?  I'm  so  afraid  of  Dicky.  He  slapped 
me  twice,  Charley,  and  he  knocked  you  over  with  his 
fist.  Oh,  let  me  stay  with  Roger !  " 

Charley  gasped.  "  Oh,  Felicia !  Felicia !  Oh,  my 
little  Felicia !  " 

Roger  spoke  quickly.  '  Why  not  let  her  stay  for  a 
little  visit,  Charley?  I'll  finish  Elsa's  tent  this  after 
noon  and  she  can  share  that  with  Elsa,  till  her  nerves 
become  normal." 


248  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  But  I'm  going  up  to  stay  with  Charley/'  said  Elsa; 
"  that's  part  of  the  cure." 

"  Then  let  her  stay  alone.  She'll  be  safe  and  happy 
with  me,"  replied  Roger.  "  Dick  deserves  punish 
ment." 

Charley  looked  at  Roger,  then  at  Felicia.  "  I  think 
that's  a  good  idea,"  she  said,  slowly. 

And  so  when  Ernest  and  Gustav  came  home  that 
night,  they  found  Felicia  watching  the  camp  fire  beside 
Roger,  and  after  she  was  asleep  in  her  tent,  they  heard 
the  whole  story.  Ernest  was  indignant  at  the  thought 
of  Elsa's  staying  on  at  the  ranch. 

"  I  am  going  to  be  firm  with  her  in  the  morning," 
he  said. 

But  Elsa's  firmness  was  greater  than  Ernest's  and 
shortly  the  two  households  had  settled  down  and  Dick 
was  gradually  reinstated  in  every  one's  good  graces  but 
Roger's.  Felicia  stayed  on  for  a  week,  to  the  joy  of 
the  three  camp  mates  who  spoiled  her  outrageously. 
Then  one  Saturday  evening  Dick  came  down  and  he 
and  Felicia  had  a  long  talk,  at  the  end  of  which  Fe 
licia  said  good-by  to  Roger,  Ernest  and  Gustav,  and 
returned  to  the  ranch,  quite  happily. 


CHAPTER  XII 
DICKY'S  LAST  BOUT 

THE  fact  that  the  engine  had  fallen  below  expec 
tations  brought  the  Sun  Planters'  food  problem 
into  prominence  again.  When  Elsa  had  begun  house 
keeping  for  the  men  she  had  protested  over  the  mea- 
gerness  and  the  simplicity  of  the  food  supplies.  But 
Roger  had  explained  their  situation  frankly  and  Elsa 
had  proceeded  to  make  good  German  magic  over  the 
canned  food  of  which  the  camp  had  been  so  weary. 

''  The  Lord  knows,"  exclaimed  Ernest  at  the  break 
fast  table  one  morning,  "  how  long  we'll  be  tied  up 
in  this  Hades.  If  Roger's  begun  puttering  on  the  en 
gine  we  may  be  here  ten  years." 

"This  isn't  Hades,  Ern!"  exclaimed  Elsa.  "I'm 
having  the  time  of  my  life." 

"  I  notice  that  Dick's  down  here  a  good  deal,"  said 
Ernest,  slyly,  "  and  I  suppose  that  adds  to  the  hilarity 
of  the  nations." 

"  By  the  way,"  Elsa  ignored  her  brother  except  for  a 
blush,  "  what  are  we  going  to  do  about  the  food  prob 
lem,  Ern?  All  the  cotton-tails  and  quail  that  Gustav 
shoots,  won't  keep  us  much  longer." 

"  Do  you  suppose  Hackett  would  let  us  run  a  bill 
with  him  and  take  a  mortgage  on  the  outfit  here  as 
security?  Of  course,  I  haven't  any  right  to  give  a 

249 


250  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

mortgage  but  I'll  explain  the  whole  situation  to  him." 
Roger's  voice  had  a  desperate  note  in  it. 

"Well,  that  is  worth  the  try,  eh?"  said  Gustav. 
"  Me,  I  might  borrow  a  little  yet,  from  a  friend  in  the 
East/' 

"  You'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  Gustav,"  exclaimed 
Roger.  '*  You're  far  from  home  and  you  may  need 
all  your  borrowing  power  for  yourself  —  not  but  what 
I  appreciate  your  offer,  old  man !  " 

"  I've  got  a  little  —  my  fare  home  and  about  a  hun 
dred  beside,"  offered  Elsa. 

"  Keep  it,  old  girl,"  Roger's  voice  was  husky.  "  By 
Jove,  I  may  be  poor  in  everything  else,  but  I'm  rich  in 
friends.  Ern,  what  do  you  think  of  my  suggestion?  " 

"  Well,  I  hate  debt  worse  than  anything  in  the  world. 
But  we're  in  this  thing  up  to  our  necks  and  I'm  willing 
to  try  anything  that's  honest.  If  Hackett  knows  the 
whole  story — " 

"  He  knows  it  now,  I  guess,  but  I'll  give  him  all  the 
details.  I  may  as  well  go  in  to-day  and  get  a  yes  or  no 
at  once." 

"  I'll  go,"  said  Ernest.  "  I'd  like  to  and  you'd  bet 
ter  not  lose  a  day." 

Roger  nodded  in  a  relieved  manner. 

"  Listen !  There  goes  the  Lemon !  "  exclaimed  Elsa. 
"  I  do  hope  she  goes  to-day." 

"  Put!  Put!  "  came  over  the  desert.  "  Put!  Put! 
Put!" 

"  I  guess  she's  launched  and  I've  got  a  clear  day  for 
work."  Roger  rose  as  he  spoke.  "  Dick's  having  a 
struggle  to  get  enough  water  for  that  second  five  acres 
of  his.  He  insists  that  he's  going  ahead  with  the  next 
five,  though." 


DICKY'S  LAST  BOUT  251 

"  Elsa,  want  to  go  into  Archers  with  me?"  asked 
Ernest. 

"  Sorry,  Ern,  but  I'm  going  to  help  Charley  can 
pumpkins  to-day.  She  planted  some  for  luck  up  by 
the  engine  house  where  the  pump  leaks,  you  remember, 
and  the  crop  is  wonderful." 

"  Oh,  well,  if  you  prefer  pumpkins  to  me  and  Ar 
cher's  Springs,  I've  nothing  to  say,"  groaned  Ernest. 

"  I'll  go,"  offered  Gustav.  "  I  haf  letters  and  other 
things." 

Ernest  accepted  the  offer  with  alacrity.  He  was  be 
ginning  to  recover  some  of  his  old  spirits  but  he  had 
not  been  himself  since  Charley's  refusal.  Roger  had 
never  known  Ernest  to  take  one  of  his  affairs  quite 
so  hard  before.  He  dreaded  to  be  alone  and  was  often 
moody :  a  rare  state  of  mind  for  easy  going  Ernest. 

The  two  men  made  a  quick  and  successful  trip  to 
Archer's,  for  Hackett  agreed  to  sell  them  food  to  the 
sum  of  two  hundred  dollars.  He  didn't  see  how  a 
mortgage  could  be  given  but  he  was  willing  to  take 
Roger's  personal  note  for  ninety  days.  This  Roger 
gave  with  some  misgivings  but  with  a  sigh  of  relief 
that  the  day  of  starvation  had  been  put  off  once  more. 
Then  he  gave  his  whole  mind  to  his  engine  problem. 

He  was  planning  some  changes  in  his  engine  that 
were  fundamental  and  that  were  really  the  outcome  of 
his  early  trip  through  the  ranges  in  the  search  for 
window  glass.  He  worked  at  his  re-designing  with  a 
single  minded  passion  that  set  him  apart  from  the  oth 
ers.  All  of  them  except  Felicia  found  him  tense  and 
at  times  irritable. 

As  August  came  in,  the  beauty  of  the  desert  seemed 
to  increase  daily.  The  heat,  whilst  it  added  to  one's 


252  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

sense  of  the  desert's  cruelty,  added  at  the  same  time  to 
the  unreality  and  to  the  mystery  of  silence  and  of  dis 
tances  that  are  so  large  a  part  of  the  desert's  fascina 
tion. 

The  sand  was  alive  with  an  uncanny,  tiny  life. 
Horned  toads  flopped  unexpectedly  across  the  trail. 
Lizards  were  everywhere,  running  over  and  under  the 
tent  floors  and  along  the  thatching  of  the  condenser 
and  the  engine  house.  There  were  many  rattlesnakes 
too,  particularly  dangerous  at  this  time  of  year  because, 
Dick  said,  they  were  shedding  their  skins  and  were 
blind,  striking  at  any  sound.  There  were  Gila  mon 
sters  now  and  again.  There  were  many  scorpions  and 
centipedes,  with  once  in  a  while  a  tarantula. 

Dick  and  Charley  laid  down  certain  laws  of  the  sum 
mer  desert.  No  one  was  to  go  to  bed  without  examin 
ing  the  bedding  for  tarantulas  or  centipedes.  No  one 
was  to  dress  without  subjecting  every  article  of  apparel 
to  the  same  scrutiny.  No  one  was  to  go  out  at  night 
without  a  "  bug  "  for  fear  of  the  blind  striking  of  a 
rattler.  Every  one  must  learn  to  kill  a  snake  with  a 
snake  stick.  And  every  one,  even  Felicia,  must  learn 
to  treat  snake  bites. 

Elsa,  clear-headed  and  matter  of  fact,  was  very  little 
annoyed  by  all  this  gliding  venomous  summer  life. 
But  little  Felicia's  horror  of  it  was  difficult  to  control. 
It  seemed  to  Roger  that  the  child's  nerves  had  been 
uneven  ever  since  the  "  cologne  affair/'  as  Ernest 
called  it.  But  he  could  not  be  sure  of  this,  for  Charley 
insisted  that  the  little  girl's  fears  of  all  that  uncanny 
fraternity  of  the  sand  was  exactly  what  hers  had  been 
four  years  before. 

August  was  slipping  by,  quietly  enough  when  Gus- 


DICKY'S  LAST  BOUT  253 

tav,  returning  one  day  f  ronvArcher's  Springs,  delivered 
to  Roger  a  letter  from  Hampton  of  the  Smithsonian 
saying  that  on  the  thirtieth  day  of  August  a  representa 
tive  of  the  Smithsonian  would  reach  Archer's  Springs 
on  his  way  to  Los  Angeles ;  that  he  had  but  two  days 
to  spare  but  would  be  glad  to  give  these  days  to  the 
Moore  experiment. 

Roger  was  in  despair.  "  Two  days !  "  he  groaned. 
"  Why,  it  takes  two  days  to  come  up  and  back.  Better 
stay  away." 

"  Don't  be  an  idiot,  Rog,"  exclaimed  Ernest. 
"  You  get  him  here,  and  he'll  stay  for  a  day  or  so. 
How  can  he  get  away?  The  thing  that  bothers  me  is 
that  darned  engine  of  yours." 

"  It  doesn't  bother  me,"  replied  Roger,  with  a  quick 
gleam  in  his  gray  eyes  and  a  sudden  smile.  "  I've  got 
a  week  before  he  gets  here  and  by  Jove,  the  old  ket 
tle's  got  to  be  ready !  "  He  gave  a  sudden  long  sigh 
and  looked  off  toward  the  distant  line  of  the  river 
range.  "  I  thought  it  was  queer  of  the  Smithsonian  to 
treat  me  as  it  did.  Ern,  this  puts  new  life  in  me." 

If  new  life  means  redoubled  effort,  Roger  had  found 
it  indeed.  He  gave  himself  as  little  sleep  as  possible 
during  the  week  before  the  expected  visit.  All  day  and 
a  larger  part  of  the  night  he  was  at  work  in  the  engine 
house,  till  his  eyes  were  bigger  and  his  face  gaunter 
than  ever.  Felicia  was  his  little  shadow.  Her  taste 
for  mechanics  made  her  seem  more  like  a  small  boy 
than  ever.  And  although  Roger's  tense  nerves  grew 
tenser  and  his  impatience  with  the  others  was  shown 
oftener  and  oftener,  to  Felicia  he  showed  only  the  gen 
tleness  for  which  she  loved  him. 

Charley  and  Elsa  were  forming  a  real  friendship. 


254          THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

The  isolation  of  the  little  desert  community  was  almost 
complete.  Since  the  death  of  Von  Minden  no  one  from 
the  outer  rim  of  the  desert  or  of  the  world  had  been 
near  either  camp  or  ranch.  Even  the  Indians  who 
had  been  camping  in  the  remote  canyon  where  Felicia 
had  visited  them  had  found  good  hunting  in  some  still 
more  remote  section  and  never  had  appeared  in  trie 
camp.  This  isolation  forced  the  friendship  between 
the  two  young  women  to  a  quick  growth.  Charley 
was  happier,  Dick  said,  than  he  had  seen  her  since  her 
college  days. 

Two  days  before  the  visitor  was  due,  Roger  an 
nounced  that  one  day's  work  would  make  him  ready 
for  a  test,  so  that,  and  he  did  not  believe  that  he  was 
over-confident,  when  Gustav  arrived  with  the  Smith 
sonian  investigator,  the  plant  would  be  in  full  action. 
He  made  this  announcement  at  breakfast.  Ernest  and 
Gustav  cheered. 

"  I  never  thought  you'd  make  it,"  said  Gustav. 

"  I  had  to  make  it,"  replied  Roger.  "  I  have  the 
.conviction  that  if  this  man,  whoever  he  is,  sees  the  plant 
working,  the  thing  will  be  done,  and  that  if  he  doesn't 
find  the  wheels  going  round,  I'm  going  to  miss  the 
chance  of  my  life." 

"  If  the  heat  would  just  let  up  for  a  little  while," 
sighed  Ernest.  "If  he's  a  northerner,  it  may  put  him 
out  of  business." 

"  Pshaw !  they'll  send  an  experienced  man,  never 
fear!  "  Roger  poured  himself  another  cup  of  coffee. 
"Hello!  Here's  a  caller!" 

It  was  Qui-tha,  riding  a  half-starved  pony  whose 
mangy  sides  were  working  in  the  early  morning  sun 
like  a  pair  of  bellows. 


DICKY'S  LAST  BOUT  255 

He  dismounted  and  grinned  affably.  "  How !  You 
give  Oui-tha  more  strong  medicine,  maybe !  " 

"  Look  here,  Qui-tha,  I'll  give  you  all  the  strong 
medicine  you  want,  if  you'll  stay  and  help  me  for  a 
week,"  cried  Ernest. 

Qui-tha  shook  his  head.  "  No  got  time  to  work. 
Must  go  back  to  Injun  camp  take  care  of  sick  Injun. 
Qui-tha  heap  big  medicine  man,  now." 

"  All  right ! "  Ernest  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"  No  work,  no  strong  medicine." 

Qui-tha  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  remounting,  he 
started  on  up  the  trail  to  the  ranch  house.  Elsa  re 
ported  later  in  the  day  that  Dick,  having  no  peroxide, 
had  promised  to  get  some  from  Archer's  Springs  if 
Qui-tha  would  do  a  day's  work  for  him.  Qui-tha, 
she  said,  was  giving  the  matter  due  consideration. 

Late  that  evening,  while  Roger  and  Gustav  were 
working  at  the  little  forge,  Ernest  came  out  of  the  liv 
ing  tent  where  he  had  been  writing  letters. 

"  Did  you  fellows  hear  a  gun  shot  a  little  bit  ago  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  You  two  are  making  such  an  infernal 
racket,  I  can't  tell  what  it  was." 

Roger  and  Gustav  both  stopped  work  and  listened. 
The  desert  was  breathlessly  silent. 

"  Are  you  sure?  "  asked  Roger.  "  Did  you  think  it 
might  have  been  at  the  ranch  ?  " 

"  I  couldn't  tell.  It  may  have  been  nothing  at  all 
but  you  folks  here.  But  if  I  hear  it  again,  I'm  going 
up  there." 

It  was  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  later  that  Elsa's 
voice  came  from  the  trail. 

"  Ernest !     Roger !     Gustav !  " 

The  three  men  started  on  a  run  to  meet  her.     A 


256  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

dark  figure  in  the  starlight,  she  staggered  exhausted 
toward  them. 

"  The  Indian  —  had  whiskey  —  he  and  Dick  both 
drunk.  The  Indian  shot  Dick  —  in  the  leg  and  ran 
away." 

"  Did  he  hurt  you  girls  ?  "  cried  Roger. 

"  Not  a  bit.  But  Dick's  terrible.  We've  got  him 
in  his  bedroom.  But  if  his  leg  didn't  prevent  him 
he'd  climb  out  of  the  window." 

As  she  spoke,  she  turned  back  toward  the  ranch  with 
the  men.  "  You  go  ahead.  I'm  all  in  and  will  follow 
slowly,"  she  said. 

"  Not  with  that  Indian  around  in  the  desert,"  ex 
claimed  Ernest.  "  Gustav,  you  come  along  with  Elsa 
and  Roger  and  I'll  run  for  it." 

They  could  hear  Dick's  roars  as  they  neared  the 
adobe.  When  they  burst  breathlessly  into  the  living 
room,  Charley  was  standing  by  the  door  holding  in 
place  a  chair  which  hung  on  the  knob  and  against  the 
door  jamb  made  an  effective  bolt. 

"  Is  he  armed?  "  asked  Roger. 

"  No,"  replied  Charley.  "  There's  the  only  gun  in 
the  house,"  pointing  to  the  one  on  the  table.  "  And 
Qui-tha  had  his  with  him  as  he  ran  out  of  the  house." 

Roger  turned  to  Ernest.  "  We  could  just  leave  him 
in  there  alone  to  wake  up,  if  there  wasn't  danger  of 
his  bleeding  to  death.  Come  on,  Ern.  Remember 
he's  as  strong  as  a  bear  and  be  ready  to  jump  him 
with  me.  Get  some  clean  rags  and  water,  Charley, 
and  bring  them  in  when  we  call.  And  keep  Gustav 
out.  He'll  faint." 

They  slid  quickly  into  Dick's  room,  closing  the  door 
behind  them,  Dick  lay  on  the  bed,  blood  oozing 


DICKY'S  LAST  BOUT  257 

through  his  pants  leg  below  the  knee.  He  seemed  too 
sick  to  move,  but  Roger  would  take  no  chances. 

"  Ern,  you  hold  his  hands  above  his  head  while  I 
cut  off  that  pants  leg." 

The  precautions  were  unnecessary.  Dick  lay  mut 
tering  and  limp  while  Roger  uncovered  a  nasty  wound 
that  had  plowed  to  the  bone  down  Dick's  skin. 

"  Qui-tha  must  have  been  at  close  quarters  when  that 
happened,"  said  Ernest.  "  You'll  need  help,  Roger, 
Hand  me  that  towel  and  I'll  tie  his  hands." 

Roger  handed  Ernest  the  towel,  then  went  out  for 
the  rags  and  water.  Gustav  and  Elsa  had  arrived. 
He  had  hardly  answered  them  that  Dick's  wound  was 
not  very  serious  when  there  was  a  sudden  uproar. 
Dick  had  gone  amuck  again  and  even  the  girls  had  to 
be  called  into  service  to  help  with  the  bandaging  while 
the  men  held  him  quiet. 

By  the  time  the  blood  flow  was  staunched  and  the 
rude  bandaging  finished,  Dick  had  subsided  into  a 
drunken  stupor,  from  which,  in  spite  of  his  evident 
pain,  there  seemed  little  danger  of  his  rousing  for 
some  hours.  Leaving  Gustav  to  watch,  the  others 
withdrew  to  the  living  room. 

"  What  have  you  done  with  Felicia  ?  "  asked  Roger. 

"  She's  slept  through  it  all,  thank  heaven,"  replied 
Charley.  "  I  ran  into  her  room  as  soon  as  Qui-tha 
had  clattered  away  and  she  was  sound  asleep.  So  I 
just  locked  the  door.  I'll  go  in  now  and  attend  to  her." 

She  picked  up  a  candle  and  tiptoed  into  the  bed 
room.  There  was  a  moment's  hush,  then  Charley 
rushed  back  into  the  living  room. 

"  She's  not  there !  Felicia !  "  Her  voice  rising  to 
a  scream.  "  Felicia !  Where  are  you  ?  " 


258  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Elsa  ran  wildly  into  the  bedroom  followed  by  the 
others.  The  little  room  was  empty.  Felicia's  night 
dress  lay  in  a  heap  on  the  floor.  The  clothing  she  had 
taken  off  was  gone.  A  quick  search  of  the  house,  then 
of  the  outbuildings  was  made.  To  no  avail.  Some 
one  gasped: 

"Qui-tha!" 

But  Charley  who  had  recovered  her  self  control,  ve 
toed  this  idea  at  once.  "  An  Indian  isn't  like  that ! 
Roger,  she  climbed  out  of  the  window  to  run  to  you." 

"  I'll  go  down  there  at  once,"  replied  Roger. 
"  The  rest  of  you  keep  on  calling  and  searching  around 
fcere." 

"  Ride  old  Nell,"  Charley  suggested,  as  Roger  hur 
ried  away. 

But  Felicia  was  not  at  the  Sun  Plant,  nor  did  Rog 
er's  stentorian  shouts  raise  any  reply  save  faint  howls 
from  a  coyote  pack.  With  a  sinking  heart  he  rode 
back  to  the  ranch  and  called  in  the  others  whose  lights 
were  flashing  about  the  mountainside. 

"  If  she  started  for  our  camp/'  he  said,  "  I  don't  see 
how  she  could  have  wandered  away.  She  knows  that 
trail  so  well." 

"  But  she  has  never  taken  it  alone  after  dark."  El- 
sa's  voice  was  uncertain.  "  And  she's  so  little !  And 
it  was  so  dark  to-night,  I  kept  wandering  off  the  trail 
myself." 

"  Let's  not  waste  time  surmising ! "  exclaimed  Er 
nest,  impatiently. 

"  But  we  must  use  a  little  system,"  returned  Roger. 
M  Girls,  you  patrol  the  trail  up  and  down  between  the 
Stin  Plant  and  here.  I've  left  a  lighted  '  bug '  in  the 
tent.  You  both  carry  '  bugs  '  and  extra  candles  and 


DICKY'S  LAST  BOUT  259 

keep  calling.  The  moon  will  soon  be  rising,  and  that 
will  help.  Gustav,  you  make  a  big  circle  round  the 
camp  as  far  out  as  you  can  keep  the  tent  light  in  sight 
Ern,  you  follow  the  Archer's  Springs  trail  a  mile  or  sot, 
then  swing  inside  of  Gustav's  circle  and  cover  all  the 
arroyas  and  rock  heaps  you  can.  I'm  going  to  take  the 
mountain  trail.  Everybody  get  something  for  a  tour 
niquet.  At  sun  up,  come  back  here.  If  you  can  find 
her,  or  even  get  her  trail,  fire  three  shots." 

Elsa  gave  a  little  sob,  but  Charley  was  tearless.  As 
they  started  for  their  respective  stations,  she  asked: 
(t  How  about  Dick?" 

Roger  flushed  a  deep  red.  "  Dick  rots  for  all  I  care 
until  we  find  Felicia." 

No  one  commented  on  this  and  shortly  the  desert 
was  dotted  with  slow  moving  fingers  of  light.  Roger, 
as  he  panted  up  and  down  the  mountainside,  knew  that 
never  would  he  forget  the  wistful  melancholy  of  those 
thin  calls  that  rose  and  fell  all  night,  now  in  Gustav's, 
or  Ernest's  deep  notes,  now  in  the  high  treble  tones  of 
Elsa  or  Charlotte.  "Felicia!  Felicia!  Felicia!" 
But  Felicia  did  not  answer. 

With  the  dawn,  the  wind  rose,  and  there  began  that 
perpetual  shifting  and  sifting  of  the  sand  which  in  a 
few  hours  more,  Roger  knew,  would  obliterate  the  lit 
tle  girl's  trail,  although  it  was  only  a  summer  wind 
which  would  die  down  by  mid-morning. 

At  sun  up,  a  weary  eyed,  hoarse  and  hectic  group 
gathered  in  the  living  room  of  the  adobe. 

"  Now,"  said  Roger,  "  you  girls  get  three  or  four- 
hours'  sleep,  then  one  of  you  go  down  to  the  Plant 
and  one  of  you  stay  here.  We  three  men  will  take  a 
day's  water  and  grub  supply  and  keep  to  the  general 


260  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

beats  we  had  last  night.  I  can't  believe,  unless  Qui-tha 
got  her,  that  she  wandered  very  far." 

"  But  I  saw  her  after  Qui-tha  had  gone.  If  a  rat 
tler  struck  her  she  — "  Charley  stopped. 

"  How  long  does  a  person  live  after  a  rattler  bite?  " 
asked  Ernest,  with  stiff  lips. 

"  A  Mexican  who  worked  for  us  three  years  ago 
lived  twelve  hours  but  he  was  unconscious  most  of  the 
time/'  replied  Charley. 

"  Now,  you  girls  go  cook  a  little  breakfast,"  said 
Gustav,  hastily,  "  and  ve  vill  do  the  chores,  eh  ?  " 

They  ate  a  hasty  meal  in  the  kitchen  a  little  later. 
No  one  talked.  Charley  patted  Elsa's  shoulder  in  a 
helpless  way  when  Elsa  now  and  again  burst  into  tears. 
They  had  finished  their  preparation  for  the  renewal  of 
the  search  when  Dick  called  from  the  bedroom.  Char 
ley  went  to  him,  closing  the  door  after  her.  What  she 
said  the  others  did  not  know  but  there  was  silence  in 
the  bedroom  for  some  moments  after  she  came  out. 
Then  there  was  a  confusion  of  sounds  and  Dick 
dragged  himself  on  his  hands  and  knees  into  the 
kitchen.  He  pulled  himself  up  into  the  chair  by  the 
table.  The  others  stood  silently  looking  at  him. 

"  O  God !  "  he  groaned.     "  O  God  in  Heaven !  " 

Still  no  one  spoke. 

"  Hurry !  "  he  shouted.  "  What  are  you  waiting 
for  ?  She  may  be  dead  now !  Hurry,  you  fools !  " 

"  I'm  going  to  stay  here,  Dick,"  said  Elsa. 

"  You'll  not!  To  hell  with  me!  "  Dick  paused  and 
lifted  a  shaking  hand  to  his  eyes  for  a  moment. 
"  Rog,  you  go  along  the  foot  of  the  range  and  search 
every  canyon.  Watch  every  spot  of  shade.  I've 
warned  her  so  often  about  desert  sun." 


DICKY'S  LAST  BOUT  261 

Roger  nodded  and  started  off,  Peter  following  him 
with  a  good  supply  of  water  and  food  on  his  back. 
Ernest  and  Gustav  were  to  use  the  two  horses. 

The  sun  rose  higher  and  higher,  crossed  the  zenith 
and  traveled  toward  the  River  Range.  Roger,  with 
dogged  thoroughness,  followed  the  trail  suggested  by 
Dick.  He  was  numb  with  fear.  Remotely  he  recalled 
that  somehow  he  had  been  expecting  this  to  be  a  de 
cisive  day  in  his  history  but  it  was  only  a  fleeting 
memory.  Every  sense  that  he  possessed  was  concen 
trated  on  finding  Felicia.  At  noon,  he  ate  and  drank 
something,  then  lay  down  in  the  shade  of  a  canyon  to 
sleep  for  an  hour  or  so,  with  Peter  standing  like  a  lit 
tle  gray  bodyguard  beside  him.  At  three  he  was  plod 
ding  on  his  way  again,  around  cactus  thicket,  up  and 
down  washouts,  over  rockheaps,  talking  to  Peter  when 
the  silence  became  unendurable,  or  his  voice  refused 
to  rise  longer  with  Felicia's  name.  He  could  with 
difficulty  urge  his  body  on  through  the  burning  heat. 
What  then  of  a  tender  little  girl  ?  In  this  summer  sun 
of  the  desert  a  man  without  water  for  twenty-four 
hours  would  die.  What  of  Felicia? 

By  sun  down  he  had  covered  several  miles  on  either 
side  of  the  ranch.  He  was  covered  with  dust  and  his 
lips  were  cracking  in  spite  of  his  free  use  of  the  can 
teen.  He  was  tired  to  the  very  bones  of  him.  The 
hot  sand  had  blistered  his  feet.  The  cholla  had  torn 
his  hands.  When  the  sudden  blackness  of  night  de 
scended,  he  determined  to  rest  once  more  until  the 
moon  rose.  He  did  not  think  that  he  was  more  than  a 
mile  from  the  ranch,  but  as  there  was  still  plenty  of 
food  and  water,  and  as  he  was  within  ear-reach  of  pos 
sible  gun-shots,  there  was  no  point  in  going  home  for 


262  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

the  few  hours'  rest.  He  removed  Peter's  pack,  gave 
him  some  oats  and  a  mouthful  of  water,  then  started 
a  tiny  fire  of  greasewood  twigs.  It  was  very  hot  but 
Roger  had  seen  several  rattlers  during  the  day  and  the 
idea  of  lying  down  in  utter  darkness  did  not  appeal  to 
him. 

Yet,  he  did  not  sleep  after  all.  He  sat,  wide-eyed, 
feeding  the  tiny  blaze,  trying  to  develop  some  new  the 
ory  on  the  little  girl's  sudden  disappearance.  He  had 
been  pondering  this  for  an  hour  when  there  came  the 
sound  of  footsteps  stumbling  through  the  sand.  He 
jumped  trembling  to  his  feet. 

"  Felicia !     Oh,  Felicia !  "  he  cried. 

"  No !  No !  It's  Charley !  "  a  hoarse  voice  an 
swered  and  in  a  moment  Charley  appeared  within  the 
tiny  circle  of  firelight.  She  was  disheveled  and  pale, 
and  evidently  very,  very  tired,  but  still  outwardly  com 
posed. 

"  Sit  down  and  rest,"  said  Roger.  "  Here,  I've  been 
sitting  on  Peter's  pack  blanket.  There's  room  for  us 
both,  I  guess." 

Charley  sank  down  with  a  grateful  sigh  and  Roger, 
recalling  his  pipe,  took  it  out,  filled  it  and  essayed  sev 
eral  puffs,  then  established  himself  beside  Charley. 

"  I  couldn't  stay  indoors,"  she  said.  "  Dick  made 
us  all  lie  down  for  a  few  hours'  sleep,  but  I  couldn't 
sleep.  I  thought  perhaps  she  might  have  gone  up  the 
trail  that  she  took  when  she  went  to  find  the  Indians. 
If  the  Indian  went  down  toward  your  camp,  she  would 
try  to  go  in  the  opposite  direction.  And  then,  I  got 
to  wondering  if  she  stole  down  to  the  camp,  while  we 
were  all  occupied  with  Dick,  and  finding  it  all  dark,  she 
got  confused  and  —  And  then  I  wonder  — " 


DICKY'S  LAST  BOUT  263 

Roger  laid  a  quiet  hand  on  the  interlaced  fingers 
with  which  Charley  was  clasping  her  knee. 

"  Easy  now,  Charley,  easy.  Have  you  had  your 
supper?"  Charley  turned  to  look  at  him.  His  own 
eyes  filled  at  the  glimpse  he  got  of  the  misery  in  her 
deep  eyes  —  Felicia's  eyes. 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  did,"  she  answered. 

"  That's  fine !  Now  is  any  one  staying  down  at  the 
camp  in  case  she  wanders  in  there?  " 

"  Gustav's  there." 

"  All  right !  Good  old  Gustav.  It  seems  to  rne 
your  idea  about  the  Indian  trail  is  a  good  one.  How 
did  you  come  clear  up  here,  when  you  were  headed 
into  the  range." 

"  My  'bug '  went  out  and  I'd  lost  my  matches,  so  I 
wandered  off  the  trail,  I  guess,  till  I  saw  your  light." 

"  My  heavens,  Charley.  But  it  was  a  horrible  risk 
you  ran !  You  might  have  — " 

"  Don't  scold,"  said  Charley  drearily.  "  What  does 
it  matter?" 

"  I  won't  scold,"  replied  Roger  with  a  gentle  note  in 
his  voice  that  no  one  but  Felicia  had  ever  heard. 
"  Npw,  I  tell  you  what  we'll  do.  We'll  just  rest  here 
until  the  moon  comes  up.  Then  we'll  try  the  Indian 
trail.  Let's  spread  this  blanket  so  you  can  lie  down." 

"  I  don't  want  to  lie  down.  I  just  want  to  sit  here 
by  you.  She  loved  you  so." 

"All  right,  Charley.  I'll  smoke  and  we'll  buck 
each  other  up.  How's  Dick  ?  " 

"  I  don't  really  know.  He  won't  let  any  of  us  touch 
him.  He  must  be  in  great  pain." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Roger  bitterly. 

Charley  made  no  reply.     The  process  of  bucking 


264  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

each  other  up  did  not  proceed  with  much  enthusiasm. 
The  two  sat  brooding  over  the  tiny  blaze.  Now  and 
again  Peter  returned  from  a  short  foraging  expedi 
tion  and  thrusting  a  soft  nose  over  one  of  their  shoul 
ders  waited  to  have  his  forehead  rubbed,  then  started 
off  again. 

Roger  noted  that  Charley's  pallor  had  given  way  to 
flushed  cheeks,  and  suddenly  he  was  aware  that  he  too 
was  parched  and  feverish;  that  try*as  he  would  to 
think,  clearly,  he  could  do  nothing  but  wonder,  impa 
tiently,  when  the  moon  would  rise  and  to  fight  down 
the  picture  that  rose  constantly  of  tiny  Felicia  wander 
ing  in  an  endless  desert.  Measuring  the  depth  of  his 
love  for  the  child  by  the  immensity  of  his  fear,  he  was 
astounded  by  its  greatness. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE   GREAT   DIVIDE 

THE  moon  appeared  at  last  and  suddenly  all  the 
desert  lay  before  them  like  molten  silver.  They 
rose,  stiffly,  and  Charley  helped  Roger  to  replace  the 
little  pack  on  Peter.  Roger  led,  Peter  followed  and 
Charley  brought  up  in  the  rear.  For  hours,  they  toiled 
slowly  up  into  the  range,  flashing  their  "  bugs  "  into 
the  shadows,  stopping  now  and  again  to  go  over  rock 
heap  or  cactus  clump  carefully,  then  on  again,  neither 
of  them  speaking,  even  to  Peter,  except  to  call  at  irreg 
ular  intervals  Felicia's  name. 

Dawn  found  them  high  in  the  range,  in  a  little  can 
yon,  sweet  with  a  tiny  spring  about  which  grew  mes- 
quite  and  bear  grass.  The  black  ashes  of  old  fires 
were  there,  but  nothing  else.  Roger  broke  the  silence 
of  hours : 

"  We're  both  going  to  get  a  sleep  here,  then  I'm 
going  to  take  you  home.  We're  way  out  of  the  reach 
of  gun  sound.  They  might  have  found  her,  you 
know." 

They  stood  staring  about  them  for  a  moment  and 
listening.  The  unutterable  silence  of  the  desert  was 
about  them.  Roger,  eyes  bloodshot,  face  unshaven, 
lips  cracked,  turned  to  Charley  whose  great  eyes  were 
sunk  in  her  head,  her  lip  colorless  and  drawn. 

265 


266          THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Come,"  he  said.  "  I'll  cook  the  bacon  and  you 
unpack  the  rest  of  the  grub.  We  simply  haven't 
strength  to  get  home  without  rest  and  food." 

Charley  had  the  remainder  of  the  food  ready  for 
Roger  when  the  bacon  was  cooked.  They  ate  in  si 
lence,  then  Charley  lay  down  on  the  pack  blanket  while 
Roger  stretched  out  in  a  drift  of  sand  beyond  the 
spring.  In  utter  weariness  they  both  slept,  unmindful 
of  danger  from  snakes  or  vermin. 

It  was  mid-morning  when  Roger  woke.  He  sat  up 
with  a  start  and  a  sudden  clear  picture  in  his  eyes  of  a 
spot  in  the  desert  where  he  had  not  searched.  About 
a  mile  from  the  ranch  and  perhaps  an  eighth  of  a  mile 
west  of  the  trail  at  the  base  of  the  range  was  a  little 
stone  monument.  Roger  had  observed  it  but  it  was 
too  small  to  shelter  even  Felicia's  small  frame  in  its 
shadows,  so  he  had  not  troubled  to  make  a  close  ob 
servation  of  the  flat  desert  round  about  it.  The  pic 
ture  which  had  awakened  him  was  an  extraordinarily 
vivid  one  of  this  monument.  He  resolved  to  examine 
it  thoroughly  on  his  way  home. 

Roger  rose  stiffly.  Charley  was  lying  on  her  face, 
her  head  pillowed  on  her  arm.  He  moved  over  and 
touched  her  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Sorry,  Charley,"  he  said,  "  but  we'd  better  start 
back." 

The  girl  sat  up,  slowly.  "  I  wasn't  asleep,"  she  said. 
"  I've  just  been  napping  off  and  on.  I  can't  sleep  un 
til  I  know." 

"  Perhaps  we'll  find  her  safe  at  home,"  Roger  even 
managed  a  smile  with  his  broken  lips. 

"  Let's  not  stop  to  eat  again !  "  exclaimed  Charley. 

Roger  nodded.     They  reloaded  Peter  who  was  well 


THE  GREAT  DIVIDE  267 

gorged  on  spring  water  and  the  uncertain  looking  herb 
age  that  grew  about  its  brim. 

The  trail  back  was  nearly  all  downward  and  they 
had  covered  it  by  noon.  Roger  told  Charley  of  his 
strange  awakening  dream  of  which  he  made  light,  but 
when  they  sighted  the  little  monument  in  the  distance, 
they  both  hurried  toward  it. 

It  was  there  that  they  found  Felicia.  On  the  west 
side  of  the  monument  the  prospector  had  begun  a  hole 
and  left  it.  It  was  not  over  a  foot  in  depth  nor  over 
three  feet  square.  Too  small  to  show  in  the  vast  levels 
of  the  desert  until  one  was  upon  it  and  protected  from 
view  from  the  mountain  because  of  the  monument,  tiny 
as  it  was,  it  was  not  too  small  to  hold  her  little  body, 
huddled  face  downward,  arms  and  legs  cramped. 

Roger  lifted  her  out  and  Charley,  without  a  word, 
fainted.  Roger  groaned  and  covered  his  eyes  for  a 
moment,  then  he  took  the  pack  blanket  and  rolled  the 
little  body  in  it  and  left  it  while  he  turned  to  Charley. 
A  part  of  the  canteen  of  water  poured  gently  over  her 
face  revived  her.  As  soon  as  Roger  saw  that  she  was 
looking  at  him  intelligently  he  said,  sternly : 

"  Charley,  you've  got  to  brace  up  until  we  can  get 
home.  You  must  help  me  get  you  and  her  back  by 
keeping  as  much  of  a  grip  on  yourself  as  you  can.  Re 
member  this  is  desert  noon  and  we  can't  temporize. 
You  mount  Peter.  We'll  leave  the  pack  here.  I'll 
carry  Felicia." 

He  took  the  shot  gun  from  the  pack  and  fired  three 
shots  into  the  air,  followed  by  two  more ;  the  code  that 
Ernest  had  suggested  after  the  first  night's  hunt  had  led 
them  to  fear  the  worst.  Then  he  lifted  the  little  blan 
keted  form  across  his  breast  and  slowly  led  the  way 


268  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

back  to  the  ranch.  He  could  not  weep.  He  could  not 
curse.  He  could  only  hope,  blindly,  that  the  volcano 
within  him  would  not  burst  forth  until  his  work  was 
done. 

Ernest  met  him  a  short  distance  from  the  ranch 
house,  and  took  the  little  body  from  his  arms,  without 
a  word.  Roger  turned  back  to  Charley. 

*'  I'm  not  coming  up  to  the  house  just  now,"  he  said 
gruffly.  "  I'm  afraid  to  see  Dick." 

Elsa,  hurrying  up  to  help  her  friend,  tears  streaming 
down  her  tired,  pretty  face,  heard  this : 

"  Don't  try  to  see  him,  Rog,  but  you're  not  fit  to  go 
down  to  the  camp  yet.  Lie  down  on  the  cot  on  the 
porch  for  a  little  while  first. 

Roger  who  was  dizzy  and  staggering  caught  Gus- 
tav's  arm.  The  good  fellow  had  come  panting  up,  un 
certain  what  to  say  or  do  to  show  his  sympathy  and 
pain. 

"  Just  for  a  few  minutes  then,"  panted  Roger ;  "  I 
don't  want  to  see  Dick  for  I'd  kill  him." 

"  No  —  don't  vorry.  I  von't  let  you,"  said  Gustav. 
"  Come,  lieber  freund,  take  the  steps  mit  slowness." 

Roger  dropped  on  the  couch  and  Elsa  and  Charley 
went  into  the  living  room.  Suddenly  Dick  shouted: 

"  Snake  bite !  On  the  ankle  there !  O  God  Al 
mighty!" 

Roger  jumped  to  his  feet  and  ran  to  the  living-room 
door.  Dick  on  an  improvised  crutch  was  staring  down 
at  the  little  form  on  the  cot.  Roger  lunged  for  him 
with  an  oath,  but  Gustav  caught  Roger  round  the 
waist,  and  Charley,  who  had  been  sitting  weakly  in 
one  of  the  camp  chairs,  her  face  bowed  on  the  table, 
sprang  forward,  her  eyes  blazing. 


THE  GREAT  DIVIDE  269 

"  Don't  you  dare  bring  your  hellish  temper  into  this 
room  of  death,  Roger  Moore!  "  she  said.  "  Suppos 
ing  Felicia  had  seen  you  in  one  of  your  temper  fren 
zies,  mightn't  she  have  run  away  from  you  just  as  she 
did  from  Dick?" 

Roger  stood  as  if  paralyzed.  Charley  turned 
to  Dick.  "  Fratricide !  "  she  sobbed.  "  Murderer !  " 
Then  her  voice  rose  hysterically.  "  Oh,  why  did  I  risk 
that  little  child  to  your  weakness?  Why?  I  killed 
her  by  it!  I  killed  her!" 

Elsa  ran  to  put  her  arm  about  Charley.  "  Come, 
dear,  come  into  the  bedroom  and  let  me  talk  to  you." 

Roger  stood  motionless  for  a  moment,  staring  at 
the  bedroom  door  wrhich  was  closed  in  his  face.  Dick 
dropped  into  a  chair  with  eyes  closed,  sweat  pouring 
down  his  forehead  and  chin.  Gustav  gave  Roger  a  tug 
and  Roger  allowed  himself  to  be  led  back  to  the  cot. 

Here  he  lay  for  a  few  moments  glaring  up  at  Gustav 
who  perched  himself  watchfully  on  the  cot  edge. 
Then  he  said  hoarsely :  "  Is  that  true,  Gustav,  what 
Charley  said  about  me?" 

Gustav's  honest  face  worked  and  his  lips  trembled. 
"  Veil,  you  haf  a  bad  temper,  and  she  was  a  fright 
ened  little  thing  like  a  rabbit  at  a  cross  word." 

Roger  groaned  and  closed  his  eyes.  He  lay  for  a 
long  time  so  silent  that  Gustav  was  sure  he  was  asleep. 
The  house  within  was  very  silent.  Elsa  came  out  onto 
the  porch  and  spoke  to  Gustav,  softly  and  Roger 
opened  his  eyes. 

"  It's  all  right,  Gustav,  old  man,"  he  said  gently. 
"  I  won't  touch  Dick.  Go  on  and  do  what  Elsa  wants 
and  as  soon  as  I've  rested  a  bit,  I'll  help  you." 

"  You'll  feel  better  if  you  have  some  food,  Roger." 


270  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Elsa  came  round  to  the  side  of  the  cot  where  Roger 
could  see  her.  She  was  carrying  a  bowl  of  milk  and  a 
plate  of  bread,  which  she  placed  silently  on  a  chair  be 
side  him,  then  she  and  Gustav  disappeared  toward  the 
tool  house  where  Ernest  already  had  gone. 

Roger  did  feel  better  after  he  had  cleaned  the  two 
dishes  and  he  dozed  a  little. 

He  was  roused  by  the  sound  of  sawing  and  ham 
mering  from  the  tool  house.  A  moment  after  Charley 
flew  out  the  door  and  down  the  trail  to  the  door  of  the 
little  adobe  shack. 

"  What  are  you  all  doing?  "  Roger  heard  her  ask  in 
a  voice  totally  unlike  her  own,  so  shrill  it  was,  and 
broken. 

"  Don't  come  in,  Charley,"  cried  Elsa.  "  Roger, 
.come  here/' 

Roger  already  was  hurrying  down  the  trail. 

"  You  must  take  Charley  down  to  the  Plant  and 
keep  her  there  for  awhile,"  Elsa  said  firmly,  as  Roger 
came  up.  "  We'll  tend  to  things  here  —  she's  reached 
her  limit." 

"  Wait  till  I  get  Peter,"  replied  Roger.  He  was 
back  shortly  with  the  little  burro  and  Charley's  broad 
hat.  When  the  trembling  girl  mounted  he  walked  be 
side  her  with  a  steadying  arm  over  her  shoulders.  Her 
helplessness  suddenly  made  her  seem  very  like  Felicia 
to  him. 

"  We'll  go  right  to  the  living  tent,"  he  said,  quietly, 
"  and  you  must  try  to  rest  while  I  get  some  supper." 

"  No !  No !  Don't  leave  me.  I'm  not  hungry.  I 
can't  rest !  I  killed  her,  Roger,  I  killed  her !  " 

"  Nonsense !     Booze    killed    her.     Come,   Charley, 


THE  GREAT  DIVIDE  271 

dismount,  poor  girl,  and  we'll  turn  old  Peter  loose,"  as 
they  reached  the  camp. 

Charley  dismounted,  then  stood  staring  levelly  into 
Roger's  eyes.  "  I  let  my  love  for  Dick  kill  her.  I 
hate  him  now.  Oh,  how  I  hate  him !  " 

"  Don't  talk  about  that,"  exclaimed  Roger.  "  Char 
ley,  let's  go  into  the  living  tent  out  of  the  sun." 

They  sat  down  side  by  side  on  one  of  the  trunks. 
Roger  had  a  vague  notion  that  Charley  would  find  re 
lief  if  she  could  weep.  But  he  had  no  notion  of  how 
to  make  her  do  so.  He  took  one  of  her  feverish,  trem 
bling  hands  in  his  and  began  talking  at  random. 

"  You  are  so  like  Felicia.  You  two  always  were 
getting  confused  in  my  mind  and  right  now  it's  worse 
than  ever.  She  loved  me  as  much  as  I  loved  her. 
And  now  you'll  have  to  try  to  be  fond  of  me  too,  for 
her  sake,  Charley,  and  overlook  my  failings.  You 
didn't  kill  her,  my  dear.  She  might  have  been  bitten 
anywhere  and  at  any  time.  Try  to  think  of  that. 
Why,  you  took  wonderful  care  of  her.  Such  care  as 
never  was  on  sea  nor  land,  she  used  to  say  to  me." 

Felicia's  familiar  little  phrase  was  too  much  for 
Charley.  Suddenly  she  ran  over  to  one  of  the  cots 
and  dropping  there  burst  into  tears.  Then  Roger,  wip 
ing  the  sweat  from  his  face,  left  her  while  he  went  out 
to  boil  the  tea  kettle.  When  he  returned  in  about  half 
an  hour,  he  was  able  to  persuade  Charley  to  drink  a 
cup  of  strong  tea  and  eat  a  cracker.  The  sun  had  set 
by  the  time  she  had  finished,  and  she  asked  him  to  walk 
with  her  up  and  down  the  sand  before  the  door. 

How  many  hours  he  paced  up  and  down  in  the  hot 
darkness  with  Charley  clinging  to  his  arm,  he  could 


272  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

not  tell.  She  did  not  cry  again.  Her  agony  of  mind, 
like  Roger's,  was  too  deep  for  tears.  She  could  only 
wring  her  hands  and  stumble  back  and  forth  like  a 
hunted  thing. 

It  was  Roger's  first  experience  in  trying  to  assuage 
the  grief  of  any  one  else.  He  discovered  resources 
within  himself  of  which  he  never  before  had  dreamed. 

"  We  were  all  to  blame,  Charley,"  he  insisted  again 
and  again. 

"  No,  the  fault  was  mine!  Oh,  little,  lovely  Felicia! 
Roger,  you  must  know  that  though  I  wouldn't  let  you 
strike  Dick,  I  hate  him !  I  hate  him !  " 

"  Good  God,  Charley !  Let's  not  bring  Dick  in,  to 
night.  We  have  our  own  private  hell  as  he  has  his. 
Do  you  know  that  I'm  realizing  that  what  you  said  is 
right?  That  if  Felicia  had  seen  me  again  in  one  of  my 
temper  fits,  it  might  have  driven  her  away,  just  as  this 
did.  I'll  never  lose  control  of  my  temper  again,  Char- 
ley." 

She  did  not  answer  except  to  groan.  After  a  time, 
Roger  said,  "  I'm  thinking  about  Dick's  wound.  If  it 
isn't  attended  to,  soon,  gangrene  may  set  in.  You  and 
I  had  better  drive  him  into  town  to-morrow." 

"  We'll  not.     He  deserves  to  lose  his  leg!  " 

"  Perhaps  he  does.  But  we  aren't  the  ones  to  say 
so.  Come  into  the  tent,  Charley,  you  are  staggering 
and  so  am  I." 

Once  more  he  led  her  into  the  tent  where  he  lighted 
a  "  bug  "  and  once  more  they  sat  down  side  by  side 
on  the  trunk.  Suddenly  Roger  put  his  arm  about 
the  girl  and  pulled  her  close  against  him,  saying  brok 
enly: 

"Oh,   Charley!    Charley!     You   are   so   like   her! 


THE  GREAT  DIVIDE  273 

Lean  against  me,  dear,  as  she  would,  and  we'll  try  to 
weather  this  together."  And  Charley,  with  a  tremu 
lous  sigh,  laid  her  soft  cheek  against  his  rough,  un 
shaven  one.  They  sat  there  until  the  tent  was  filled 
with  the  lovely  gray  of  the  filtered  moonlight.  Then 
Roger  persuaded  Charley  to  lie  down.  But  when  she 
had  done  so  she  clung  to  his  hand. 

"  Stay  with  me,  just  a  little  bit  longer,"  she  whis 
pered.  Roger  seated  himself  on  the  floor,  clasping 
her  hand  closely.  It  was  not  long  before  Charley,  still 
clinging  to  his  hand,  drifted  off  into  uneasy  slumber. 
Roger  then  leaned  his  tired  head  against  the  pillow  and 
cramped  as  he  was  in  his  sitting  posture,  he  dropped 
into  a  profound  sleep. 

Thus  Gustav  found  them  at  dawn.  His  face  was 
tear-stained  but  he  smiled  a  little  with  a  look  that  was 
full  of  pity  and  understanding.  He  tried  to  tiptoe 
out  without  a  sound  but  a  board  creaked  and  Charley 
sat  up,  stared  at  him,  then  exclaimed : 

"  I  must  go  up  and  dress  her." 

Roger  clambered  to  his  feet.  Gustav  came  over  to 
the  cot  and  took  Charley's  hand  in  both  his  own. 

"  Miss  Elsa  haf  dressed  her,  in  the  leedle  vite  dress 
and  sash.  And  den,  Miss  Charley,  you  know  how  in 
so  few  hours  Gott  changes  the  bodies  ve  love  so  ve 
can't  vish  to  haf  them  longer  —  so  ve  lay  the  little 
sister  up  on  the  mountain  side  last  night,  ven  the  moon 


came." 


Charley  sat  staring  at  him  with  horror  in  her  eyes, 
then  when  he  had  ceased  speaking,  she  lay  back  and 
closed  her  eyes  and  the  two  men  left  her. 

Later  in  the  day,  it  was  decided  that  Gustav  must 
drive  Dick,  who  was  in  great  pain,  into  Archer's 


274  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Springs  to  the  doctor.  Charley  absolutely  refused  to 
see  Dick  or  to  offer  any  suggestions. 

Just  as  the  wagon  with  Dick  perching  on  the  cot  at 
the  bottom  was  ready  to  start  for  the  camp  Ernest 
called: 

"  Oh,  Gustav,  be  sure  to  find  out  about  the  Smith 
sonian's  visitor  and  wire  to  Washington  the  reason  for 
our  failure  to  meet  him/' 

Roger,  who  was  standing  in  the  living  tent,  caught 
his  breath.  Through  his  grief  for  Felicia  merged  real 
ization  that  his  great  opportunity  had  come  and  gone. 
For  the  first  time  in  three  days  he  turned  to  the  engine 
house. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

WASHINGTON 

AFTER  the  wagon  was  a  receding  dust-cloud  on  the 
trail,  Charley  went  back  up  to  the  adobe,  where 
Elsa  was  to  stay  on  with  her,  and  Ernest  to  sleep  at 
night. 

Outwardly  life  assumed  its  old  routine.  Gustav  re 
turned  on  the  third  day  and  reported  that  Dick  was  es 
tablished  at  Doc  Evans'  house  and  that  the  Doc  said 
he'd  have  Dick  about  again  in  two  or  three  weeks  if  no 
new  complication  set  in.  He  also  brought  a  letter 
from  the  Smithsonian  man,  Arlington,  somewhat  caus 
tically  deploring  the  fact  that  Roger  had  not  been  suffi 
ciently  interested  to  meet  him  and  closing  with  the  re 
mark  that  he  would  not  be  in  the  neighborhood  again 
for  another  six  months.  Gustav  brought  with  him, 
too,  the  refilled  drums  of  sulphur  dioxide. 

Roger  handed  the  letter,  without  comment,  to  Ernest 
and  went  back  into  the  engine  house.  He  did  not  go 
up  to  the  ranch  for  supper  that  evening  as  he  had  been 
doing,  but  the  following  morning  which  was  Sunday, 
he  appeared  for  breakfast.  He  was  looking  haggard 
and  old  but  he  greeted  his  friends  cheerfully. 

"Got  any  victuals  for  a  broken  down  inventor?" 
he  asked  Charley. 

She  smiled  faintly  as  she  set  a  place  for  Roger  at 
the  table. 

"  You  certainly  look  the  part,  Rog,"  said  Ernest. 

275 


276  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  It's  a  good  thing  you've  got  friends  with  business 
heads," 

"  With  what?  "  exclaimed  Roger. 

"  Don't  be  cynical !  "  cried  Elsa.  "  We  sat  up  half 
the  night  working  out  a  wonderful  scheme  for  you. 
We—7' 

"  Yes/'  Ernest  interrupted  eagerly,  "  we  all  went 
over  the  situation  and  we've  made  up  our  minds  to  a 
mode  of  action.  You  are  such  an  impractical  old 
chump,  Rog!  It's  ridiculous  for  you  to  waste  your 
time  trying  to  make  an  engine  out  of  a  junk  pile  while 
the  main  idea  of  your  invention,  the  real  selling  part, 
is  neglected."  He  stopped  to  butter  a  biscuit. 

Roger  sipped  his  coffee  and  waited  for  Ernest  to 
continue.  "  Now  then,  Elsa  has  a  little  money,  enough 
to  take  me  to  Washington  and  back.  It's  her  idea  that 
I  take  that  and  go  to  see  the  Smithsonian  people. 
There's  not  the  slightest  sense  in  your  going.  You're 
no  salesman  and  I  am.  You  remember  it  was  I  who 
landed  Austin  in  the  first  place." 

"  I  remember,"  said  Roger  quietly. 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Roger  thought  of  the 
tiny  food  supply  and  of  the  months  of  experimenta 
tion  that  must  go  on  before  the  Sun  Plant  would  show 
efficiency. 

"  I  hate  to  see  Elsa  putting  money  into  this  thing," 
he  said  slowly,  "  but  at  most  I  can  always  take  a  job 
and  pay  her  back." 

"  Of  course  you  can !  "  exclaimed  Elsa. 

"  I  know  I  can  get  money  from  the  Smithsonian," 
said  Ernest,  "  and  we'll  repay  her  at  once.'* 

Roger  looked  at  Charley.  "  What  do  you  advise?  " 
he  asked. 


WASHINGTON  277 

"  I  wouldn't  hesitate  for  an  instant,"  she  replied. 
"  Elsa  feels  just  as  I  would  —  that  the  work  must  be 
finished." 

"  I  know  I  can  land  the  Smithsonian,"  reiterated  Er 
nest,  "  and  we'll  repay  Elsa  at  once." 

"  You  needn't  hurry,"  exclaimed  Elsa.  "  As  long 
as  I  have  no  money,  I  can't  go  home !  " 

Roger  looked  from  Ernest  to  Elsa,  then  out  the  door 
across  the  desert  to  where  the  Sun  Plant  lay  in  the 
burning,  quivering  blue  air. 

"  We'll  try  it  out,  Ern,"  he  said.  "  You  know  how 
grateful  I  am  to  you  both." 

Ernest  nodded.  "  Nobody's  using  the  horses,  so 
I'll  drive  in  and  leave  the  team  at  Hackett's.  If  Dick 
gets  well  before  I  come  back  he  can  drive  himself  out. 
Otherwise  it  will  be  waiting  for  me.  Elsa,  do  you 
think  you  could  fix  up  a  clean  collar  and  shirt  for 
me?" 

"If  she  can't,  I  can,"  offered  Charley. 

"  Take  anything  you  can  find  of  mine,"  Roger's  face 
was  more  cheerful  than  it  had  been  for  days.  "  I'll 
get  the  reports  and  drawings  ready  for  you." 

So,  by  the  united  efforts  of  the  two  households,  Er 
nest  was  made  ready  for  a  flying  trip  to  civilization. 
He  was  so  happy  and  excited  over  the  trip  that  he 
really  lifted  some  of  the  sadness  that  had  hung  so  heav 
ily  over  the  ranch  house.  After  his  departure,  Gus- 
tav  slept  at  the  ranch,  in  order  to  do  the  chores  while 
Roger  remained  at  the  Plant. 

Ever  since  he  had  reached  the  desert  Roger  had  been 
conducting  heat  tests  and  while  he  was  able  under  per 
fectly  controlled  conditions  to  produce  higher  tempera 
tures  than  those  of  the  tables  he  had  used  for  so  many 


278  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

years,  his  average  readings  under  the  absorber  glass 
were  less  than  he  had  counted  on.  And  so  he  was  at 
work  on  a  new  type,  low  pressure  engine,  for  which  his 
average  temperatures  would  produce  ample  heat. 

Ernest  took  little  stock  in  his  new  idea.  "  It  may 
take  fifty  years  to  work  it  out,"  he  had  said  the  day  he 
left  for  Washington.  "  Increase  your  absorption  area 
and  let  it  go  at  that.  Better  men  than  you  have  spent 
their  lives  on  the  low  pressure  idea  and  failed." 

"  I  tell  you,"  Roger  had  insisted,  "  that  with  a  few 
changes  of  this  present  engine,  I'll  produce  the  low 
pressure  engine  of  to-day." 

"  Well,  go  to  it,  old  man !  In  the  meantime,  I'll 
fetch  you  some  money  so  you  can  buy  all  the  parts 
needed,  and  not  have  to  continue  your  awful  career  of 
mountain  brigand.  The  devilish  thing  about  you  in 
ventors  is  that  you  putter  so.  My  God,  you  drive  me 
crazy !  I  do  honestly  believe  that  if  it  weren't  for  fear 
of  starvation,  you'd  be  puttering  here  for  ten  years." 

"  You're  getting  to  be  nothing  better  than  a  common 
scold,  Ern,"  returned  Roger  with  a  laugh.  "  I'll  be 
glad  to  get  you  out  of  the  camp.  Run  along  now  and 
do  your  little  errand." 

With  a  routine  established  for  caring  for  the  two 
households,  Roger  bent  all  his  splendid  mind  and  ener 
gies  on  re-making  the  engine.  Charley,  coming  to  the 
camp  one  afternoon,  as  she  or  Elsa  often  did  to  cheer 
Roger's  long  day,  watched  him  as  he  worked  with  in 
finite  care  to  adjust  a  gauge  he  had  taken  apart. 

"  One  of  the  many  things  that  break  me  up,"  she 
said,  "  is  that  you  missed  the  visit  from  the  Smithson 
ian  man." 

"  As  it  turns  out,"  replied  Roger,  stoutly,  "  I  didn't 


WASHINGTON  279 

miss  anything.  I  found  when  I  got  to  work  again 
that  my  safety  device  was  inadequate  and  I've  been 
all  this  time  evolving  a  new  one.  If  I'd  run  the  engine 
as  it  was,  I  might  have  had  a  nasty  blow-up  and  I've 
made  one  or  two  other  changes,  too,  that  are  im 
portant." 

"  The  engine  doesn't  look  so  very  different  to  me," 
said  Charley. 

Roger  chuckled.  "  Her  whole  insides  have  been 
made  over  really,  by  just  a  few  changes.  When  Dean 
Erskine  gets  the  new  parts  made  and  down  here,  I'll 
be  O.  K.  I  sent  the  design  up  to  him  when  Ernest 
went  in  and  some  new  parts  ought  to  be  here  in  a 
couple  of  weeks,  now.  I  told  Ern  to  have  Hackett 
deliver  them  on  arrival.  It's  too  complicated  to  ex 
plain  to  you  but  I  had  another  corking  good  idea  the 
day  that  Dick  went.  I'm  glad  Arlington  won't  get 
here  for  six  months." 

Charley's  eyes  filled  with  sudden  tears.  "  You're  a 
lamb,  Roger,"  she  murmured. 

"  Where's  Gustav  ?  "  asked  Roger,  quickly. 

"  He's  puttering  with  the  Lemon.  If  you  need  him, 
I'll  go  up  for  him." 

"  No,  you  won't.  It  seems  to  me  that  you  need 
water  on  the  alfalfa  badly.  The  second  field  is  get 
ting  pretty  yellow." 

Charley  sighed.  "  I  know  it !  Roger,  that  well 
just  isn't  adequate.  I've  told  Dick  so  fifty  times.  He 
should  have  begun  work  on  a  driven  well,  long  ago,  but 
he's  simply  hipped  on  the  powers  of  this  present  well. 
I  think  that  the  old  thing  is  going  dry." 

"  You  do  ?  "  Roger's  tone  was  startled.  "  Here, 
there's  no  hurry  on  this  job.  I'm  just  waiting  really 


280  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

for  the  new  parts.  Let's  go  up  and  have  a  look  at  your 
whole  water  outfit." 

They  set  off  forthwith,  the  Lemon  starting  on  its  un 
easy  way,  just  as  they  reached  the  pumping  shed. 

"  Something's  wrong,  certainly,"  exclaimed  Roger, 
watching  the  stream  of  water  that  came  from  the 
pump.  "  There  isn't  half  the  usual  stream  there.  Do 
you  think  the  pump  is  all  right,  Gustav?  " 

"  The  pump  is  new  and  goot.  The  vater  is  low. 
Sometime,  no  vater  it  come  at  all.  Then  I  vait  for  it 
to  fill  again." 

"  I  don't  understand  it  at  all,"  said  Charley. 
"  There  is  plenty  of  water  in  this  range.  You  see  that 
old  silver  mine,  up  there  ?  "  pointing  to  an  ancient 
dump  on  the  mountainside  back  of  the  house.  "  Well, 
the  lower  level  of  that  has  a  foot  of  water  in  it." 

"  How  does  it  seem,  stagnant?  "  asked  Roger. 

"  I've  never  seen  it,"  replied  Charley.  "  Dick  told 
me." 

Roger  lighted  his  pipe  and  took  a  few  meditative 
puffs.  "  Charley,  are  you  and  Dick  entirely  broke  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  We've  got  enough  left  of  the  turquoise  money  to 
grub  stake  us  to  the  end  of  the  year.  Why,  Roger?  " 

"  Well,  I  think  you've  got  to  have  a  decent  gasoline 
engine  here,  at  once,  if  you're  going  to  save  that  first 
crop." 

"  But  I  thought  your  plant  — "  Charley  spoke  care 
fully  as  if  fearful  of  hurting  Roger. 

"So  did  I,"  he  returned,  a  little  bitterly.  "But 
I've  thought  a  good  many  things  in  my  life  that  haven't 
come  true." 


WASHINGTON  281 

"  I'm  very  certain  that  this  new  engine  of  yours  will 
do  everything  you  expect  of  it."  She  smiled  a  little. 
"  You  remember  poor  old  Mrs.  von  Minden  said  you 
were  to  found  an  empire." 

Roger  grinned.     "  She  didn't  know  engineers !  " 

Charley's  smile  faded  as  she  stood  staring  at  the 
Lemon.  "  No,  a  new  engine  is  out  of  the  question. 
We  —  we  have  some  bad  debts  that  keep  Hackett  from 
giving  us  credit.  We're  counting  on  this  first  crop  to 
clear  part  of  that  up." 

"Then,"  said  Roger  decidedly,  "there's  just  one 
thing  to  be  done.  We'll  move  the  Sun  Plant  up  here, 
now,  while  I'm  waiting  to  complete  the  engine." 

"  The  absorber  and  condenser !  Oh,  Roger  man,  the 
whole  crop  would  be  burned  to  a  crisp  while  you  did 
that !  And  only  you  and  Gustav  to  do  it,  and  the  team 
is  at  Archer's." 

Roger  bit  his  pipe  stem.  "  There  must  be  a  way," 
he  insisted,  doggedly.  "  There's  got  to  be." 

"  Vy  not  make  the  veil,  first,"  suggested  Gustav  who 
had  been  a  silent  auditor  to  the  entire  conversation. 
"If  you  don't  get  vater,  a  gut  engine  is  no  gut." 

"Who's  going  to  dig  it?"  asked  Roger.  "If  it 
takes  as  long  to  get  to  water  up  here  as  it  did  at  the 
Plant,  you  and  I  would  be  at  it  till  October.  No! 
I'm  going  to  get  help.  I  don't  know  how  I'm  going  to 
get  it,  but  it's  going  to  be  done.  I  could  keep  twenty 
men  busy  here  for  a  month." 

Charley  sighed  and  Gustav  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

Roger  relighted  his  pipe  and  went  into  a  brown 
study.  Gustav  waited  patiently  for  several  moments, 
then  left  to  do  the  evening  chores.  Charley  sat  on  an 


282  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

empty  box  beside  the  pump  watching  now  the  stream 
that  flowed  over  the  field  and  now  Roger's  half  closed 
eyes.  Finally  he  emptied  his  pipe  and  rose. 

"Didn't  Elsa  call  supper?"  he  asked. 

"  Some  time  ago."  Charley  rose  too.  "  But  I  didn't 
want  to  interrupt.  Have  you  solved  your  troubles?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  But  I've  thought  of  something  I'm 
going  to  try  out.  Wasn't  that  camp  Felicia  went  to  a 
permanent  one  ?  " 

"  Yes,  in  a  way.  The  Indians  come  there  again 
and  again.  But  they  won't  work,  Roger." 

"Old  Rabbit  Tail  works.  Charley,  take  a  little 
trip  with  me  to-morrow.  Let's  see  if  my  idea  works." 

"  I'd  like  to,  Roger.  I  haven't  been  away  from 
sight  of  this  adobe  hut  but  twice  in  a  year.  Once,  the 
night  we  found  you,  and  once,  the  night  you  and  I  —  " 

"  I  know,  poor  old  girl !  Well,  let's  have  a  little 
picnic  trip  of  our  own  to-morrow.  We'll  take  Peter 
and  some  grub  — get  a  dawn  start  and  be  back  by 
sundown." 

"Oh,  I'd  love  it!"  cried  Charley,  looking  like 
Felicia  with  the  sudden  flash  of  joy  in  her  eyes.  "  I'll 
put  up  the  best  lunch  ever.  Come  along,  Roger,  do! 
Elsa  will  take  our  heads  off." 

Roger  invited  Elsa  to  accompany  them  on  the  mys 
terious  trip,  but  Elsa  refused  to  go. 

"  Dick  will  be  back  any  day  now,"  she  said,  "  and 
I'm  going  to  be  here  when  he  comes." 

Charley  made  no  reply  to  this  but  Roger  frankly 
shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  feel  as  if  I  never  wanted 
to  see  him  again.  I'll  be  here  at  dawn,  Charley.  You 
can  meet  me  at  the  corral,  can't  you,  so's  not  to  rout 
the  others  out  too  early?  " 


WASHINGTON  283 

Charley  agreed  and  dawn  was  just  unfolding  over 
the  desert  when  she  tied  the  grub  pack  to  Peter's 
saddle.  She  waited  for  some  time,  sitting  on  the  rock, 
her  back  against  the  corral,  before  Roger  came.  He 
appeared  at  last,  just  as  the  first  rays  of  the  sun  shot 
over  the  mountains. 

"  Sorry  to  be  late,"  he  said,  "  but  my  gasoline's  given 
out  and  I  had  to  cook  breakfast  by  hand,  as  it  were, 
over  some  chips.  Whew,  it's  going  to  be  one  hot 
day." 

"  I  don't  care  how  hot  it  is,"  replied  Charley,  reck 
lessly.  "  I  feel  as  I  were  being  taken  to  the  county 
fair,  and  I  was  almost  too  excited  to  sleep.  Come 
along!  I  know  the  trail  well." 

It  was  a  well  beaten  trail.  The  Indians  had  used  it 
for  countless  generations  in  their  search  for  pottery 
clay.  It  lifted  zig-zag  over  the  Coyote  Range,  giving 
at  the  crest  this  morning  a  superb  view  of  distant 
peaks  and  of  gold  melting  into  blue  infinities.  It 
dropped  zig-zag  into  canyons  that  were  parched  and 
cracked  with  late  summer  heat  and  lifted  again  to  cross 
a  peak  whose  top  and  sides  had  been  blasted  and  left 
purple  and  gashed  by  an  ancient  volcano.  Then  once 
more  it  dropped  gradually  and  gracefully  into  the 
canyon  where  the  little  spring  mirrored  the  blue  of  the 
Arizona  sky. 

There  were  half  a  dozen  Indian  sun  shelters  near  the 
spring,  each  a  mere  cat's  claw  and  yucca  thatch,  sup 
ported  on  cedar  posts.  To  Roger's  surprise  and  grati 
fication  the  Indians  were  at  home.  It  was  still  early 
and  they  were  at  breakfast.  With  Peter  trailing  like  a 
dog,  Charley  and  Roger  stopped  a  short  distance  from 
the  camp. 


284  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Old  Rabbit  Tail,  in  his  breech  clout,  squatted  near 
a  pot  of  simmering  stew,  now  dipping  in  a  long 
handled  spoon  and  eating  from  it  meditatively,  now 
puffing  at  a  yellow  cigarette.  Several  squaws  in  dirty 
calico  dresses,  squatted  near  by  awaiting  their  turn. 
Each  shelter  held  a  similar  group,  every  one  of  which 
paused  in  breathless  interest  as  the  two  whites  ap 
proached. 

Roger  strode  directly  up  to  the  old  chief.  "  Good 
morning,  Rabbit  Tail !  "  he  said. 

Rabbit  Tail  grunted. 

"  I  came  up  to  have  a  talk  with  you,"  Roger  went 
on,  pulling  out  his  pipe.  "  Sit  down,  Charley,  this  is 
going  to  be  a  regular  pow-wow." 

A  tall  Indian  in  the  next  shelter  rose  slowly  and 
started  quietly  toward  the  back  trail.  "  Hey ! 
Qui-tha!"  called  Roger,  sternly,  "Come  back  here! 
I've  something  to  say  to  you.  The  sheriff  ought  to 
have  you.  Call  him,  Rabbit  Tail." 

Rabbit  Tail  spoke  in  Hualapai  and  Qui-tha  came 
slowly  up  to  the  old  chief's  shelter  and  dropping  down 
beside  him,  lighted  a  cigarette.  Charley,  sitting  on  a 
rock  at  a  little  distance,  chin  in  hand,  arm  on  knee, 
shivered  slightly  in  the  broiling  sun.  Roger,  who  had 
learned  much  about  Indians  from  Qui-tha,  jerked  his 
thumb  at  Charley. 

"  You  know  that  white  woman,  Rabbit  Tail  ?  " 

"  Four  years !  "  replied  the  chief. 

"  What  kind  of  a  woman  is  she  —  eh  ?  " 

"  Good  woman.  My  squaw  have  papoose  one  time 
in  her  'dobe.  Charley  take  care  her  all  same  she  her 
sister.  Heap  good  white  squaw,  Charley." 

The    squaw    in    question    nodded    and    smiled    at 


WASHINGTON  285 

Charley,  who  smiled  in  return,  a  little  sadly,  Roger 
turned  to  Qui-tha. 

"  How  about  her  brother,  Dick  Preble  ?  You  like 
him?" 

Qui-tha,  his  brown  face  expressionless,  nodded. 
"  Yes !  Most  whites  steal  and  lie.  Dick  he  never 
steal  or  lie  to  Injun.  Good  man,  except  when 
drunk." 

"  Exactly,"  Roger  clutched  his  pipe  bowl  firmly. 
"  Did  you  tell  'em  about  the  little  girl  —  eh  ?  " 

Qui-tha  looked  up  in  honest  surprise.  "  Tell  what 
'bout  little  girl?" 

Roger  turned  to  Rabbit  Tail.  "  You  haven't  heard 
about  what  Qui-tha  did  to  little  girl?  " 

"  Me  no  touch  little  girl,"  exclaimed  Qui-tha,  in 
dignantly.  "  Have  fight  with  Dick,  no  touch  little 
girl.  Like  little  girl,  bring  her  home  when  she  get 
lost  up  here." 

"  You  know  how  Dick  is  a  devil  when  he  gets 
drunk?" 

Qui-tha  nodded. 

"  You  knew  that,  yet  you  brought  him  a  bottle  of 
whiskey  and  got  drunk  with  him  and  shot  him  in  the 
leg  when  you  fought." 

The  old  chief  turned  inquiringly  toward  Qui-tha. 
Again  Qui-tha  nodded  grimly. 

"  And  you  knew  that  the  infernal  drunken  row  you 
kicked  up  that  night  frightened  the  little  girl  so  that 
she  ran  away  into  the  desert  where  a  rattle  snake  bit 
her  and  she  died  —  died  all  alone  at  night,  in  the 
desert" 

A  look  of  complete  horror  rose  in  Qui-tha's  eyes. 
"No!"  he  gasped. 


286  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Ai !  Ai !  Ai ! "  cried  the  squaw  who  had  given 
Felicia  the  pottery.  "  Poor  little  papoose !  She  was 
sweet,  like  her,"  pointing  to  Charley. 

Then  there  was  silence  in  the  camp,  all  eyes  turned 
on  the  old  chief.  Indians  are  great  lovers  of  chil 
dren.  Their  tenderness  to  them  never  fails,  be  they 
white  or  red  or  black. 

"Dick  heap  sick?"  asked  old  Rabbit  Tail,  finally. 

"Yes,  but  he'll  get  well.  He's  at  Doc  Evans's 
house  in  Archer's." 

"  Did  you  tell  the  sheriff?  "  continued  the  chief. 

"  No,"  replied  Roger.     "  Charley  wouldn't  let  me." 

Rabbit  Tail  turned  to  Charley.  "Why?"  he 
queried,  laconically 

Charley  bit  her  lip.  "  The  whites  brought  whiskey 
to  the  Indians  in  the  first  place,"  she  said. 

There  was  another  silence.  Then  Roger  began 
again.  "  Dick  has  been  sick  a  long  time  now  and  he 
can't  work  much  when  he  gets  back.  You  know  his 
alfalfa  field?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  chief. 

"  Well,  Dick  has  been  away  and  his  water  pump  is 
no  good  and  the  alfalfa  is  dying.  If  we  don't  get 
water  on  it  it  will  die.  If  it  dies,  then  Charley  will 
have  much  trouble,  bad  trouble.  They  owe  Hackett 
much  money  because  of  Dick's  drinking.  So  they 
•can't  get  food  unless  they  pay  that  money.  They 
can't  pay  that  money  unless  they  sell  much  alfalfa. 
See?" 

Qui-tha  and  Rabbit  Tail  both  nodded. 

"  Now,  I  know  you  Indians  don't  believe  in  work. 
But  if  I  can  dig  a  big  well  for  Charley  and  move  my 
engine  up  to  the  adobe,  I  can  get  plenty  of  water  on 


WASHINGTON  287 

the  alfalfa.  It  would  take  twenty  Indians  one  week 
to  move  my  plant.  Rabbit  Tail,  you  supply  gangs 
sometimes  for  government  work.  Get  Charley  a 
gang  for  one  week/' 

"  You  whites,"  said  Rabbit  Tail,  "  work  heap  hard 
for  what  you  get  —  huh?  If  you  live  like  Injun,  no 
worry  'bout  food,  go  out  shoot  'em.  No  worry  'bout 
bed.  Sleep  in  sand,  huh?  " 

Roger  nodded.  "  I  think  many  times  you're  right, 
Rabbit  Tail.  But  it's  too  late  now.  Whites  have 
lived  like  this  too  many  hundreds  of  years.  They 
can't  change  to  your  ways  any  more  than  Indians 
can  change  to  white  ways." 

Again  there  was  a  long  pause  before  Rabbit  Tail 
began  once  more. 

"  You  know  you  whites  kill  many  Injuns.  Give 
Injun  dirty  sickness  —  kill  Injun  babies.  Me  —  I 
see  white  take  Injun  baby  by  feet,  smash  head  against 
rock.  See  Injun  squaw  belly  cut  out  by  white  man. 
You  know  all  that?" 

Roger  nodded.  "  The  whites  have  been  rotten  to 
the  Indians.  I  don't  blame  you  for  hating  us.  But 
how  about  Charley  and  the  little  girl  ?  " 

One  of  Qui-tha's  squaws  spoke.  She  had  been 
educated  at  an  Indian  school. 

"  Charley  showed  me  how  to  cure  my  baby  of  sore 
scalp  and  how  to  take  care  of  him  when  he  had  croup. 
She  lets  me  stay  with  her  when  he  is  sick  or  I  am." 

"  She  lets  me  use  her  sewing  machine  whenever  I 
want  it,"  spoke  up  a  pretty  young  squaw  in  a  red 
gingham  dress. 

"  When  old  Chachee  die,"  an  elderly  Indian  woman 
looked  from  Charley  to  Rabbit  Tail,  "  she  die  in 


288  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Charley's  house.  Charley  help  sickness  in  her  chest 
better'n  medicine  man." 

Roger  looked  at  Charley.  He  knew  that  she  liked 
the  Indians  but  she  never  had  mentioned  her  good 
works  to  them. 

The  educated  squaw  spoke  again.  "  I  hate  most 
white  women.  They  treat  us  as  if  we  were  servants. 
But  Charley  treats  us  as  if  we  were  human  beings 
like  herself.  And  Felicia  was  a  beautiful  child." 

"  It's  queer  some  of  you  have  never  been  near 
Charley  then,  in  her  trouble,"  said  Roger. 

"  The  men  have  been  working  for  months  on  the 
government  dam  at  Bitter  Peak.  We  were  with 
them  and  just  got  here  three  days  ago.  Of  course, 
Qui-tha  didn't  tell  what  little  he  knew.  If  the  men 
won't  help  Charley,  we  women  will.  We  could  carry 
water  to  the  field." 

Qui-tha  rose  and  walked  over  to  Charley.  "  Qui- 
tha  heap  sorry.  You  give  Qui-tha  to  sheriff." 

Charley  shook  her  head.  "  What  good  would  that 
do?" 

"  All  right  then,  Qui-tha  go  help  one  week,  fix  the 
alfalfa." 

Old  Rabbit  Tail  lighted  another  cigarette.  "We 
come  Monday,  bring  fifteen  men,  one  week,"  he  said. 

"  You  know  neither  Roger  nor  I  have  any  money, 
Rabbit  Tail,"  explained  Charley. 

"  Money  no  pay  for  blood.  You  good  to  Injuns. 
Now  Injuns  good  to  you." 

Roger  rose.  "  Thank  you,"  he  said  simply.  But 
Charley  was  too  moved  for  words  and  as  if  she  un 
derstood,  one  of  the  squaws  put  one  hand  on  the  girl's 
shoulder  while  she  patted  her  cheek. 


WASHINGTON  289 

They  clambered  back  to  the  top  of  the  trail,  without 
a  word  until  the  camp  was  out  of  sight,  then  Roger 
said  with  a  half  smile, 

"  You  are  some  girl,  Charley  dear." 

"  And  you  are  some  boy,  Roger." 

"  I  ?  Why  Charley,  I'm  just  beginning  to  realize 
that  I  have  gone  through  life  with  my  eyes  shut.  The 
man  with  one  idea  misses  most  of  life.  I  went  up 
there  with  the  intention  of  threatening  a  lot  of  sav 
ages.  I've  come  awray  feeling  as  if  I'd  met  a  group 
of  intelligent  and  kind  hearted  fellow  humans." 

"  It  was  wonderful  of  them,  wasn't  it!  "  exclaimed 
Charley.  "  I  had  no  idea  they  felt  under  obligations 
to  me.  I  certainly  didn't  want  them  to." 

Roger  nodded  and  looked  at  his  watch.  "  It's  only 
nine  o'clock  now.  If  it  wasn't  so  frightfully  hot  and 
there  were  any  place  to  go,  I'd  say  let's  continue  our 
spree." 

"  Just  beyond  that  strip  of  desert  there,"  Charley 
pointed  into  the  valley  to  the  east,  "  there  are  some 
wonderful  Indian  inscriptions  on  some  rocks  around 
a  spring.  I've  never  seen  them,  but  I've  always 
wanted  to  and  I  know  the  trail.  Dick  has  shown  it 
to  me." 

"  Let's  try  it,"  said  Roger.  "  Peter,  come  on, 
you're  getting  fat  and  lazy.  I  believe  it's  about  ten 
degrees  hotter  than  usual." 

It  was  an  hour's  climb  down  into  the  valley.  It 
lost  its  level  look  on  near  inspection.  In  every  direc 
tion  a  fine,  powderlike  sand  lay  in  long  undulating 
ridges.  Neither  rock  nor  cactus  was  to  be  seen.  A 
faint  wind  was  stirring  and  tiny  eddies  of  sand  rose 
against  the  sky. 


290  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  You  see  that  peak,  due  east  ? "  asked  Charley. 
"  Well,  the  spring  is  just  at  the  foot  of  that  in  a  little 
canyon.  There's  never  any  trail  here  at  all,  the  sand 
drifts  so." 

"  I'm  glad  we're  heading  for  a  spring,"  exclaimed 
Roger.  "  I  know  I  can  empty  the  gallon  canteen  by 
myself." 

They  started  ahead,  Roger  leading,  Peter  follow 
ing  behind  Charley.  It  was  heavy  slow  walking. 
After  perhaps  an  hour  of  it,  during  which  conversa 
tion  languished  more  and  more,  Charley  said, 

"  I  don't  feel  as  eager  minded  as  I  did  about  Indian 
writings,  do  you?  " 

"  Well,"  replied  Roger,  stopping  to  wipe  the  sand 
from  his  face  and  to  grin  at  Charley.  "  I  wasn't 
eager  about  the  hieroglyphics  to  begin  with.  I 
haven't  taken  a  girl  for  a  walk  for  years  and  I  thought 
this  was  my  chance !  " 

"  How  is  your  enthusiasm  for  that  standing  up  ?  " 
chuckled  Charley. 

Roger  cleared  his  throat.  '  You .  see,  it's  like 
this  —  "  he  began,  his  eyes  twinkling. 

Charley  interrupted  by  catching  his  arm.  "  Look, 
Roger !  There's  a  sand  storm  coming !  " 

Roger  looked  up  the  desert  to  the  north.  The 
familiar  gray  veil  of  sand  was  plainly  visible. 
"  Lord !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  We'd  better  start  back  at 


once." 


"  No,  we're  within  a  mile  of  the  spring,  now,"  said 
Charley.  "  We'd  better  get  there  as  fast  as  we  can. 
I  do  hope  Gustav  and  Elsa  will  be  all  right.  That 
poor  new  field  of  alfalfa!  " 

"  Perhaps  it  won't  be  so  bad  in  the  other  valley. 


WASHINGTON  291 

Certainly  this  sand  is  going  to  try  its  best  to  suffocate 
us.  Whew,  there  she  comes !  "  as  a  cloud  of  sand 
enveloped  them. 

They  paused  long  enough  to  adjust  their  bandannas 
across  their  faces,  then  started  hurriedly  on,  Roger 
holding  Charley  by  the  hand  and  catching  Peter's  lead 
rope  firmly.  In  ten  minutes  the  peak  toward  which 
they  were  heading  was  obscured. 

"  Shall  we  stop  or  press  on?  "  shouted  Roger. 

"Let  Peter  lead!"  cried  Charley.  "If  he  stops, 
we'll  stop." 

Peter,  shoved  ahead  of  the  little  procession,  did  not 
hesitate.  He  dropped  his  head  between  his  knees  and 
moved  very  slowly,  but  none  the  less  surely  onward. 
The  walking  was  almost  incredibly  difficult.  The 
very  desert  underfoot  seemed  in  motion.  New  ridges 
rose  before  their  burning,  half  blinded  eyes.  The 
uproar  was  that  of  a  hurricane  roaring  through  a 
forest.  Now  Roger  would  stagger  to  his  knees: 
now  Charley.  But  Peter,  lifting  and  planting  his 
little  feet  gingerly  and  exactly,  never  stumbled. 
Panting,  sweating,  Roger  after  what  seemed  hours 
of  this  going  halted  Peter  with  some  difficulty  and 
putting  his  lips  close  to  Charley's  ear  called,  "  Having 
a  pleasant  walk  to  the  county  fair,  my  dear  ?  " 

"Of  its  kind,  it's  perfect!"  shrieked  Charley  in 
return  and  not  to  be  outdone. 

As  if  thoroughly  disgusted  by  such  persiflage, 
Peter  brayed  and  started  on  without  waiting  to  be 
urged.  A  moment  later  the  footing  became  firmer 
and  Peter  led  the  way  around  a  rock  heap  and  buried 
his  nose  in  a  tiny  pool  that  seemed  thick  with  sand. 
Roger  sighed  with  deep  relief.  He  had  seen  the 


292  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

desert  strike  too  often  now  to  face  her  ugly  moods  with 
full  equanimity. 

There  was  no  real  shelter  from  the  storm  here. 
But  it  was  vastly  better  than  the  open  desert.  They 
found  a  hollowed  rock  facing  the  spring,  just  big 
enough  for  the  two  of  them  to  crouch  with  their  backs 
against  it.  Although  the  sand  sifted  in  on  them  con 
stantly,  they  were  at  least  away  from  the  fury  of  the 
wind.  There  was  water  a-plenty  at  hand  and  they 
could  bide  their  time.  Peter  established  himself  with 
his  forefeet  in  the  water,  his  tail  to  the  storm  and 
appeared  to  go  to  sleep. 

For  a  time,  Roger  and  Charley  were  glad  to  sit  in 
silence,  recovering  their  breath.  But  finally  Roger 
stretched  his  cramped  legs  with  a  sigh. 

"  Charley,  I  find  desert  life  just  a  bit  strenuous," 
he  said. 

Charley  wiped  her  face  vigorously  with  her  ban 
danna  and  nodded. 

"  So  do  I.  But  I  like  it.  I  think  I  must  like  the 
constant  fight  and  the  awful  beauty.  There's  nothing 
else  here." 

"  Have  you  anything  in  you  but  Anglo-Saxon 
blood?  "  asked  Roger. 

"  No,"  replied  Charley. 

"  That  accounts  for  your  loving  it,  I  believe.  The 
Anglo-Saxons  are  the  trail  makers  for  civilization. 
And  by  Jove,  if  any  two  people  on  earth  are  making 
trails  it's  you  and  Dick.'* 

"  You're  Anglo-Saxon  yourself.  What  is  your 
work  but  trail  making?  " 

"  We  aren't  all  trail  makers !  "     Roger  gave  a  half 


WASHINGTON  293 

cynical  chuckle.  "  You  know  I'm  solving  the  labor 
question." 

"  With  old  Rabbit  Tail's  gang?  " 

"  Hardly!  Yet,  by  golly,  Charley,  I  don't  know 
but  what  I'm  developing  a  typical  labor  situation 
down  here.  The  Indian  gang  is  working  as  a  favor, 
you  understand,  and  not  from  any  necessity." 

Charley  laughed.  "If  it  weren't  for  you  in 
ventors,  we  all  could  revert  comfortably  to  Rabbit 
Tail's  philosophy." 

"  It  was  to  make  that  philosophy  workable  that 
started  me  inventing.  That  is,  to  give  every  man 
food  and  shelter  with  a  minimum  of  work." 

Once  fairly  launched,  Roger  gave  Charley  a  rapid 
picture  of  the  strike  and  the  burning  of  the  factory. 
When  he  had  finished  the  two  sat  long  in  silence 
watching  the  gray  veil  that  roared  before  them. 

At  last  Charley  shook  her  head.  "  It's  a  long  trail 
from  the  old  plow  factory  to  the  hieroglyphic  spring, 
Roger." 

"  A  long  way,"  agreed  Roger,  "  and  I  have  no  idea 
whether  I'm  helping  or  hindering  labor.  I  only  know 
now  that  my  job  is  to  make  deserts  bloom.  Let  labor 
go  hang!" 

Charley  did  not  answer.  She  sat  with  her  brown 
hands'  clasping  her  khaki  knees,  her  hat  pulled  low 
over  her  eyes.  Roger  eyed  her  affectionately.  It 
occurred  to  him  that  since  Felicia's  death,  she  had 
seemed  more  than  ever  like  a  fine  intelligent  boy. 
And  yet  he  was  honest  enough  to  tell  himself  that 
there  was  infinitely  more  satisfaction  in  sitting  in  a 
hollowed  rock  with  Charley  than  with  any  boy  he 


294  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

had  ever  known.  Suddenly  Roger  put  his  long  arm 
across  Charley's  fine  shoulders. 

"  Charley,  you  old  dear !  "  he  said.  "  I  am  mighty 
fond  of  you !  You're  the  best  man  I  know." 

Charley  said  nothing  for  a  moment.  She  reached 
up  to  clasp  the  hand  that  hung  over  her  shoulder,  then 
she  turned  to  look  into  Roger's  face  and  there  was 
that  in  her  eyes  that  held  him  speechless.  There  was 
in  them  Felicia's  innocence  and  Felicia's  eternal 
query.  There  was  Charley's  own  sweetness  and 
wistfulness,  but  back  of  these  were  burning  depths 
of  which  Roger  as  yet  had  no  understanding  but  they 
stirred  him  so  profoundly  that  he  paled  beneath  his  tan. 

"  I'm  glad  you're  fond  of  me,  Roger.  I'm  fond  of 
you."  Charley's  voice  was  gentle. 

Roger's  hand  tightened  on  the  girl's.  "  You  are 
very  beautiful,"  he  said,  a  little  breathlessly.  "  Even 
with  your  face  all  dust,  and  in  khaki,  you  are  beauti 
ful." 

"  I  am  glad,"  replied  Charley  with  a  smile  that 
showed  her  white  teeth. 

Roger  did  not  speak  again  for  a  long  time,  but  he 
did  not  release  Charley's  hand  until  she  said,  "  Roger, 
the  storm  is  going  down." 

Then  he  rose  and  stood  staring  at  her  until,  smiling 
again,  she  said,  "  If  you'll  push  your  friend  Peter 
out  of  the  spring,  I'll  see  if  I  can  get  clean  water  for 


us." 


CHAPTER  XV 

RABBIT   TAIL'S   GANG 

THE  dust  storm  died  down  almost  as  rapidly  as 
it  had  risen.  By  four  o'clock  the  three  were  on 
their  way  home  across  the  strange  sea  of  sand.  They 
had  reached  the  home  range  before  Roger  said  to 
Charley, 

"  By  Jove,  you  never  did  show  me  the  Indian 
writing!  What  do  you  mean  by  such  subterfuge? 
Couldn't  you  think  of  any  other  way  to  entice  a  man 
for  a  stroll?" 

"There  were  inscriptions  all  around  you!"  ex 
claimed  Charley.  "  You  were  leaning  against  the 
drawing  of  a  horse,  all  the  afternoon.  Where  were 
your  eyes?" 

"  That  portion  of  them  not  blinded  by  sand  was  on 
you,  my  dear." 

''Tut!  Tut!  Don't  try  freshman  blarney  on  me, 
Roger !  I'm  getting  too  old  for  it.  Besides  one  man 
doesn't  blarney  another." 

Roger  looked  at  Charley  quickly.  "  Hum !  "  he 
said,  "  I'm  not  at  all  sure  but  what  you're  totally  fem 
inine  and  that  I'm  a  fool." 

"  Here's  the  home  trail,"  said  Charley.  "  I  hope 
they  haven't  worried  about  us." 

Elsa  was  waiting  supper  for  them  and  the  look  of 

295 


296  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

relief  on  her  face  as  they  came  in  at  the  door  told  the 
story  of  the  day's  anxiety. 

"  Gustav  and  I  have  been  frantic ! "  she  said. 
"  You  poor  things !  Where  did  the  storm  catch 
you?"  Then  without  waiting  for  an  answer  she 
went  on.  "  We  kept  the  pump  going  off  and  on  all 
day.  In  fact  just  as  steadily  as  the  Lemon  would  let 
us,  which  was  not  very  steadily,  you  can  be  sure. 
But  I'm  so  afraid  that  the  second  field  is  gone.  The 
sand  was  not  so  bad  this  time  but  the  heat  was  fright 
ful.  I  don't  see  how  anything  green  could  stand  up 
against  those  heat  blasts.  The  thermometer  here  in 
the  adobe  was  118°  at  five  o'clock  this  afternoon." 

Charley  pulled  off  her  hat  and  sank  into  a  chair. 
"Well,"  she  sighed,  "why  worry!  Seems  to  me 
I've  had  all  the  troubles  known  to  women  and  I'm 
not  going  to  let  the  mere  loss  of  the  family  fortune 
ruin  an  otherwise  perfect  day." 

Elsa  looked  at  the  two  sharply.  But  Charley  went 
on  serenely.  "  I've  been  drowned  in  sand.  I've 
been  bullied  and  baked  and  burned,  I've  been  —  " 

"  Good  gracious,  Els,  feed  her !  She's  delirious 
with  hunger !  "  said  Roger. 

"  Well,  of  course,"  exclaimed  Elsa,  "  if  the  owner 
of  that  magnificent  alfalfa  crop  —  " 

She  was  interrupted  by  a  cheerful  call  from  Gustav 
who  was  in  the  corral. 

"  Hello,  Dick !     Hello !     How  vas  the  leg?  " 

Elsa  set  the  coffee  pot  hastily  on  the  table.  The 
smile  left  Charley's  face  as  Dick  came  slowly  over  the 
porch  and  paused  just  within  the  door. 

"  Well,"  he  said  huskily,  "  the  bad  egg  is  back." 

"How's  the  leg?"  asked  Roger,  stiffly. 


RABBIT  TAIL'S  GANG  297 

"All  right  except  for  a  little  lameness.  I'll  sit 
down  though,  if  you  don't  mind." 

Dick  sank  wearily  into  a  chair  and  there  was  a 
moment's  silence.  Roger  could  not  have  believed  it 
possible  for  a  human  being  to  have  changed  as  had 
Dick  in  less  than  a  month.  His  ruddy  brown  hair 
was  sprinkled  with  gray.  He  was  thin,  and  his 
usually  round  face  was  sunken  of  cheek  with  heavy 
lines  showing  around  his  eyes  and  at  the  corners  of 
the  mouth. 

"  Supper's  just  ready,"  said  Elsa.  "  You  must  be 
hungry,  Dick."  Dick  pulled  himself  slowly  out  of 
his  chair. 

"  Charley,"  he  said,  "  and  all  the  rest  of  you,  I've 
just  a  few  things  I  want  to  tell  you  before  I  try  to 
pick  up  the  old  threads.  Nothing  you  folks  can  say 
or  do  to  show  how  you  despise  me  can  hurt  me.  I'm 
too  low  in  my  own  opinion  —  At  first,  that  afternoon 
Roger  brought  Felicia  home,  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
kill  myself.  The  only  thing  that  kept  me  from  it 
was  realizing  that  Charley  couldn't  stand  much  more 
without  losing  her  mind." 

He  paused  to  look  at  Charley,  but  she  only  gazed 
at  him  silently  in  return  and  he  went  on. 

"  When  I  went  into  Archer's  Springs,  I  hadn't  the 
slightest  intention  of  ever  coming  back  here.  But 
lying  there  on  the  flat  of  my  back,  I  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  one  way  to  help  Charley  endure 
what's  happened  would  be  to  have  it  make  a  man  of 
me.  Then  perhaps  in  the  years  to  come,  she  would 
grow  to  think  of  Felicia  as  if  she  were  thinking  of 
the  ordinary  death  of  a  lovely  little  child  and  not  with 
the  hell  of  remorse  she's  having  now.  As  for  me, 


298  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

I'll  always  have  that  remorse.  That's  common 
justice.  But  there's  no  reason  why  Charley  should 
have  it. 

"  I  guess  that's  about  all,  except  this.  For  two 
weeks  I've  gone  over  every  afternoon  to  the  saloon 
and  sat  there  for  two  or  three  hours.  And  the  sight 
and  smell  of  the  booze  for  the  first  time  in  my  life 
made  me  want  to  vomit." 

Dick  paused  again,  trembling  visibly  and  staring  at 
Charley. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Dick,"  she  said,  her  lips  stiff,,  yet 
quivering.  "  I'm  going  to  try  to  care  for  you  again. 
But  I  don't  know  whether  I  can  or  not.  Every  night 
when  I  go  to  bed  I  see  first  your  face  that  night  all 
red  and  bloated  and  distorted,  then  Felicia's,  the  way 
Roger  and  I  found  her.  I  —  I've  got  lots  to  forget, 
Dick." 

"  God  knows  you  have,  Charley.  But  you're  going 
to  give  me  one  more  trial,  aren't  you?  Please, 
Charley!" 

"  Try  if  you  want  to,  Dick.  I  don't  seem  to  care, 
one  way  or  the  other." 

Dick's  head  dropped  to  his  chest.  With  a  little 
inarticulate  cry,  Elsa  ran  across  the  room  and  pulling 
Dick's  head  over  to  rest  on  her  soft  breast,  she  kissed 
him  on  the  forehead. 

"I  care,  Dicky!"  she  cried.  "I  care!  It's  my 
whole  life  whether  you  make  good  or  not." 

Dick  lifted  his  agonized  face  and  stared  into 
Elsa's  tear  wet  eyes.  A  slow,  twisted  smile  touched 
his  lips. 

"Oh,  Elsa!  Oh,  Elsa!"  he  breathed.  "I  think 
you've  saved  my  soul  alive ! "  He  turned  his  face 


RABBIT  TAIL'S  GANG  299 

against  her  and  Elsa,  clasping  the  gray-touched  head 
to  her,  looked  at  the  others  fiercely. 

"  Now,  who  hurts  Dick,  hurts  me !  " 

Roger  dropped  his  hand  on  Charley's  shoulder. 
"  Then  look  to  it  that  he  never  hurts  Charley  again," 
he  said  sternly. 

There  was  a  silence,  broken  by  Gustav,  who  came 
into  the  kitchen  with  the  milk  pail. 

"  Elsa-,  make  me  the  pans  ready!  "  he  called. 

"  Coming,  Gustav,"  answered  Elsa  in  her  normal 
voice.  '''  The  rest  of  you  sit  down  to  supper.  Gustav 
and  I  won't  be  a  minute." 

"  Better  wash  up,  Roger,"  said  Charley.  "  Dick, 
your  raom  is  ready  for  you ! "  and  she  disappeared 
into  her  own  bedroom. 

When  they  finally  sat  down  to  the  belated  supper, 
Roger  began  at  once  to  tell  of  the  crop  conditions 
a-nd  of  the  call  on  old  Rabbit  Tail. 

"  Let's  see,  this  is  Friday  and  he  promises  the  gang 
here  on  Monday.  I  think  we'd  better  get  busy  to 
morrow  and  make  the  drill  connections  on  the  old 
Lemon.  What  do  you  think  of  the  whole  scheme, 
Dick?" 

"  I  think  it's  perfect !  "  exclaimed  Dick. 

"  Perfect  if  my  engine  works,"  said  Roger.  "But 
even  if  it  doesn't,  you'll  still  have  the  old  Lemon  and 
a  real  well.  So  I'll  have  done  you  no  harm." 

"  Have  you  got  to  dismantle  that  condenser  to 
move  it?"  asked  Dick. 

"Pretty  thoroughly,  I'm  afraid.  But  if  the  In 
dians  are  any  good  at  all  —  " 

"  If  Rabbit  Tail  brings  his  pet  gang,"  said  Dick, 
"  there'll  be  four  first  class  machinists  in  it,  trained  at 


300  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Carlisle.  Fellows  who  work  only  when  they  please, 
but  Lord,  they  are  wonders.  I  saw  them  put  up  an 
oil  engine  once  that  had  been  badly  smashed  en  route. 
It  was  a  poem,  I  tell  you." 

"  Heaven  send  them  then ! "  exclaimed  Roger. 
"If  they  put  this  thing  over  for  us,  I'll  pay  for  it  in 
cold  cash  as  soon  as  I  get  it." 

"  Rabbit  Tail  won't  take  money  for  this  deal/'  said 
Charley. 

"  The  others  will,  but  they  won't  ask  for  it."  Dick 
filled  his  pipe,  and  pushed  his  coffee  cup  away  with  a 
little  smile  for  Elsa. 

"  My  debts  are  getting  so  large  now,"  mused  Roger, 
"  that  I  can  begin  to  take  a  sort  of  pride  in  them. 
Gustav,  as  Dick's  home  now,  will  you  come  down  to 
the  Plant  in  the  morning?  " 

And  at  Gustav's  nod  Roger  made  his  adieux  and 
went  home  to  bed. 

Monday  dawned  with  the  usual  promise  of  merci 
less  heat.  It  seemed  as  if  the  torrid  days  of  late 
summer  were  harder  to  bear  than  July  had  been. 
Though  there  was  an  occasional  dust  storm,  the  air 
was  quiet  except  for  the  little  gusts  of  burning  wind. 
These  gusts  were  too  transitory  to  carry  a  sand  storm. 
But  all  day  long,  tall  spirals  of  sand,  like  water  spouts, 
whirled  across  the  desert.  One  struck  Dick's  corral, 
during  his  absence,  ripped  off  the  roof  of  the  tool 
house  and  overturned  the  watering  trough.  Several 
days  later,  one  brought  up  against  the  condenser  and 
after  knocking  off  the  thatch,  collapsed,  deluging  the 
apparatus  with  sand.  There  was  something  uncanny 
about  these  gigantic  figures,  whirling  suddenly  across 
the  desert,  now  viciously  ripping  up  a  cholla  or  a 


RABBIT  TAIL'S  GANG  301 

Joshua  tree,  now  collapsing  ridiculously  against  a 
rock. 

It  was  now  too,  that  thunderstorms  were  occasion 
ally  heard  in  the  distant  western  ranges,  though  rain 
seemed  forever  denied  to  the  desert  valleys.  But  on 
the  Sunday  noon  before  Rabbit  Tail's  gang  was  to 
arrive,  the  impossible  happened.  Roger  and  Gustav 
were  eating  their  monotonous  lunch  of  corned  beef 
and  canned  brown  bread  when  a  curious  roar  broke 
the  desert  silence.  As  the  two  men  looked  at  each 
other  questioningly,  there  was  a  deafening  crash  and 
a  huge  deluge  of  water  smashed  down  on  the  cook 
tent.  The  sun-baked  canvas  was  like  a  sieve  and  in  a 
moment  both  men  were  saturated. 

"A  cloud  burst!"  exclaimed  Roger,  grinning 
fatuously  at  the  delicious  sensation  of  wet  clothing 
and  skin. 

"  Gott,  vat  a  country!  "  cried  Gustav. 

Roger's  grin  disappeared.  "  The  living  tent,  by 
Jove !  "  Heedless  of  the  blinding  torrent,  he  dashed 
to  the  tent  where  all  the  morning  he  had  been  sorting 
and  checking  drawings  and  notes.  He  stopped  in  the 
doorway  appalled.  Everything  in  the  tent  was  drip 
ping.  Drawings,  instruments,  camera,  open  trunks 
and  bedding  were  flooded.  The  patient  work  of 
months  must  be  done  over. 

"  Hang  this  infernal  desert ! "  roared  Roger. 
"This  is  the  last  straw!" 

He  stood  glowering  at  the  wreckage,  water  pouring 
over  his  head  and  shoulders,  when,  as  suddenly  as  it 
had  begun,  the  rain  ceased.  Roger  looked  out  the 
door.  Every  grain  of  sand,  every  cactus  spine  bore  a 
tiny  rainbow.  The  whole  desert  floor  was  a  mosaic 


302  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

of  opals.  The  sky  was  of  a  blue  too  deep,  too 
brilliant  for  the  eye  to  endure.  As  Roger  stood  with 
mouth  agape  he  was  thrilled  by  a  sensation  he  had 
not  before  experienced.  The  desert,  ordinarily  en 
tirely  odorless,  gave  forth  a  scent.  Just  for  a  mo 
ment  a  pungent  perfume  for  which  he  could  find  no 
adjectives  swept  softly  to  his  nostrils  and  was  gone. 
Roger  stood  a  moment  longer  as  if  transfixed.  Then 
he  smiled  and  turning  into  the  tent,  he  began  to  repair 
the  damage  done. 

Promptly  at  eight  o'clock  on  Monday  morning, 
Roger  and  Dick,  at  work  on  the  Lemon,  were  greeted 
by  a  pleasant 

"How!     Boss!" 

Standing  by  the  corral  in  various  attitudes  of  ease, 
all  of  them  smoking  cigarettes,  were  the  members  of 
Rabbit  Tail's  gang.  They  were  lean,  powerful  fel 
lows,  most  of  them  young.  They  were  dressed  al 
most  with  the  similarity  of  a  uniform,  black  trousers, 
blue  flannel  shirts,  girdled  with  a  twist  of  bright 
colored  silk,  a  bandanna  twisted  and  tied  filet  wise 
about  the  head.  Most  of  them  wore  their  black  hair 
waist  long,  but  there  were  four  men  with  short  hair 
and  Roger  wondered  if  these  were  not  the  machinists 
of  whom  Dick  had  spoken. 

"  Any  of  you  men  ever  drill  a  well?  "  asked  Roger. 
Two  of  the  older  men  promptly  nodded.  "  All  right, 
Dick,  here  you  are.  Rabbit  Tail,  how  many  burros 
did  you  bring?  Thirty.  By  Jove,  that's  fine!  Now 
three  of  you  must  start  clearing  this  space  between 
the  corral  and  pump  house.  See,  I  have  it  all  pegged 
out.  But,  Rabbit  Tail,  I  want  all  the  mechanics  down 
at  the  Plant." 


RABBIT  TAIL'S  GANG  303 

The  old  Indian  nodded,  then  said,  "  Where's 
Charley  ?  You  tell  her  come  out  here." 

"  She's  up  at  the  house,"  said  Dick.  "  There  she 
is,  on  the  porch  with  the  squaw.  Oh,  Charley !  Come 
here!" 

Charley  came  rapidly  down  the  trail.  Old  Rabbit 
Tail  shook  hands  with  her  solemnly.  "  Here  is  the 
gang.  Old  Rabbit  Tail  keep  promise,  see?  I  tell  all 
these  men  why  we  come.  See?  They  glad  do  this 
for  white  squaw  good  to  Injuns.  You  say  '  How '  to 
them." 

Charley's  fine  eyes  deepened  with  unshed  tears. 
"  I  am  so  grateful  to  all  of  you!  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I 
want  to  shake  hands  with  each  of  you,"  and  she  went 
down  the  line,  the  strangers  among  the  Indians  look 
ing  at  her  with  frank  curiosity  and  interest. 

This  little  ceremony  having  been  completed  to  Rab 
bit  Tail's  obvious  satisfaction,  the  old  chief  set  his 
men  at  the  tasks  designated  at  the  Ranch  and  then 
with  the  rest  of  the  gang  and  the  string  of  burros,  he 
followed  Roger  down  to  the  Plant. 

That  was  a  mad  week.  The  Indians  showed  a  will 
ingness  to  work  that  Roger  had  never  seen  equaled 
by  white  men.  They  were  as  curious  about  the  Sun 
Plant  as  children  and  deeply  interested  in  Roger's 
explanation  of  it.  Their  general  intelligence  Roger 
found  to  be  high  above  that  of  the  average  gang  of 
whites.  He  never  before  had  had  the  thrill  of  work 
ing  with  a  crowd  of  mechanics  who  combined  skill, 
intelligence  and  interest  to  this  degree.  The  four 
machinists  proved  to  be  all  that  Dick  had  said  and 
more.  In  all  his  life,  Roger  had  never  had  so  deeply 
satisfying  a  seven  days.  This,  in  spite  of  the  fact 


304  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

that  he  worked  like  his  men  from  daylight  until  dark, 
stopping  only  to  eat  the  bountiful  meals  that  the  girls, 
with  the  Indian  women,  prepared  at  the  ranch.  This, 
in  spite  of  ferocious  heat  and  almost  insuperable  me 
chanical  difficulties  owing  to  the  lack  of  lifting  and 
trucking  facilities. 

For  the  first  four  days  of  the  week,  Dick  was  quite 
despondent  about  the  water  problem.  But  on  Friday 
afternoon,  as  Roger  was  superintending  the  re- 
erection  of  the  condenser,  he  heard  a  wild  shout  and 
beheld  Dick  and  his  four  helpers  laughing  and  slap 
ping  each  other's  backs,  knee  deep  all  of  them  in  a 
stream  that  gushed  into  the  ditch  from  the  new  well. 

"  My  luck  has  turned !  "  roared  Dick.  "  My  luck 
has  turned!  Look  at  it!  Look  at  it!  It  will  water 
fifty  acres.  I'll  bet  there  won't  be  an  inch  of  water 
left  in  the  range.  Wow !  "  and  he  plunged  full  length 
into  the  little  crystal  stream,  his  helpers  following  suit 
with  a  shout. 

It  was  the  signal  for  a  general  recess.  And  the 
men,  including  Roger,  took  a  ducking  and  returned  to 
work  steaming  but  unspeakably  rejuvenated.  The 
sudden  appearance  of  the  water  seemed  to  Roger  like 
a  happy  omen  for  the  whole  endeavor  and  it  would 
have  been  difficult  to  tell  who  was  the  most  enthusi 
astic  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  Roger  or  Dick. 

Rabbit  Tail's  week  was  a  full  seven  days.  At  five 
o'clock  Sunday  afternoon,  the  absorber  was  finished. 
The  old  tool  shed  stood  re-made,  roughly  to  be  sure, 
but  securely,  into  an  engine  house.  The  condenser 
was  half  finished,  the  engine  was  standing  in  its  new 
home,  dismantled  in  parts  but  quite  ready  for  Roger 
to  adjust  when  the  new  parts  should  arrive. 


RABBIT  TAIL'S  GANG  305 

When  the  old  iron  triangle  called  supper,  Rabbit 
Tail  sauntered  up  to  Roger. 

"Good  job,  Boss,  huh?" 

"  Fine !  The  best  ever !  Rabbit  Tail,  the  country 
is  missing  some  wonderful  mechanics  and  engi 
neers  in  not  getting  you  Indians  interested  in  civili 
zation." 

The  old  chief  grinned  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"  To-night,  we  go,"  he  said. 

"  Let  me  keep  Jo  and  the  other  three  machinists," 
pleaded  Roger.  "  I'm  sure  they'll  be  interested  in 
finishing  the  condenser  for  me." 

"  Ask  'em,"  grunted  Rabbit  Tail. 

"  Come  along,"  said  Roger  and  he  strode  over  to 
the  bench  where  the  four  Indians  were  fitting  together 
the  condenser  pipe.  They  looked  up  and  grinned 
affably  at  Roger. 

"  Rabbit  Tail  says  you  fellows  may  stay  and  help 
me  finish  this  condenser,  if  you  will.  I  know  I  can 
find  the  money  to  pay  you  for  it.  How  about  it?  " 

Jo,  the  spokesman,  was  a  tall  thin  Indian,  with  a 
fine  brow  and  intelligent  eyes. 

"  No,  I  guess  we'll  go  on  back  to  camp,  Mr. 
Moore,"  he  said. 

"  But  I  thought  you  were  interested  in  what  I  am 
trying  to  put  over,"  exclaimed  Roger. 

"  So  we  are.  It's  always  interesting  to  learn  what 
you  whites  are  trying  to  do.  You  work  so  fearfully 
hard  that  we  Indians  are  always  curious  to  find  out 
the  idea  back  of  the  work.  But  as  for  helping  you 
do  the  work  —  well,  it's  like  this,  you  folks  are  al 
ways  mighty  interested  in  what  we  Indians  do  — 
making  blankets  or  pottery  or  building  hogans  or 


306  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

making  ceremonial  altars.  But  I  don't  notice  any  of 
you  really  wanting  to  help  us." 

Roger  cast  a  bewildered  look  about  him  but  the 
other  bronzed  faces  betokened  full  acquiescence  with 
Jo's  words. 

"But  why  did  you  learn  your  trades  so  well?" 
he  asked,  finally. 

"  Interested  in  the  idea  —  and  it  helps  us  compete 
with  the  whites,  when  necessary!  " 

rf  Then  you  really  don't  care  about  my  finishing  the 
plant?" 

"  Why  should  we?  "  returned  Jo. 

Roger  sighed  and  scratched  his  head.  "  Then  why 
did  you  come  at  all?  " 

"  The  chief  asked  us  and  we  knew  Charley.  She's 
been  kind  to  me  and  I  wanted  to  help  her  out." 

"  If  the  whole  gang  of  you  would  give  me  just  two 
more  days  we  could  finish  in  good  shape,"  pleaded 
Roger. 

"  You  can  get  along,"  replied  Jo.  "  We've  done 
what  we  promised." 

"  Yes,  you  have,  and  a  bully  job.  But  —  well,  I'm 
floored.  I  just  can't  get  your  point  of  view." 
Roger's  voice  was  rueful. 

Jo  laughed.     "  And  we  can't  get  yours." 

There  was  an  extra  good  supper  that  night  and 
formal  thanks  on  the  part  of  Charley.  Then,  in  the 
moonlight,  the  whole  picturesque  caravan  moved  off 
up  the  mountain  trail. 

Charley,  returning  to  the  living  room,  said,  "  Well, 
children,  I'm  cheerful  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  there's 
not  two  days'  food  left  in  the  house." 


RABBIT  TAIL'S  GANG  307 


r 


I've  got  a  little  credit  still  at  Hackett's,"  said 
Roger.  "  I  think  Gustav  had  better  go  in  to  Archer's 
in  the  morning.  I  think  my  freight  must  be  there 
from  the  Dean  and  we  should  be  hearing  from 
Ernest." 

Dick,  smoking  in  the  doorway,  nodded,  then  re 
peated  the  remark  that  he  had  made  on  the  average 
of  once  an  hour  ever  since  Friday.  :'  There  isn't  a 
well  like  mine  in  a  radius  of  a  hundred  miles." 

Gustav  brought  back  two  weeks'  food  supply,  the 
freight  from  the  Dean  and  letters  from  Ernest. 
They  were  very  noncommittal  but  cheerful.  He  had 
cleared  up  the  misunderstanding  with  the  Smithsonian 
Institution,  but  as  yet  had  no  money  and  did  not 
know  when  he  could  get  back. 

"  Well,"  said  Roger,  "  we've  got  grub  for  a  week  or 
so.  I'm  not  quite  sure  whose  grub  it  is.  These  two 
camps  seem  to  me  to  have  become  helplessly  en 
tangled." 

"Who  cares!"  said  Elsa. 

"  Not  you,  young  woman,"  returned  Charley, 
dryly.  She  still  seemed  indifferent  to  Dick  but  there 
was  no  mistaking  her  warm  enthusiasm  over  Elsa  as 
a  sister. 

"  I'm  going  to  cut  the  first  five  acres  to-morrow," 
said  Dick.  "  That  will  solve  the  most  pressing  prob 
lems.  The  second  field  is  dead.  I'm  going  to  plow 
it  under.  But  I  should  worry.  That's  the  best  well 
in  a  radius  of  a  hundred  miles." 

"  Well,  I'll  assemble  my  engine."  Roger  tamped 
down  the  tobacco  in  his  pipe.  "  The  Lord  send  that 
it  goes  together  right." 


3o8  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Amen  to  that/'  said  Charley,  while  the  others 
nodded. 

Another  two  weeks  passed  in  unremitting  industry, 
but  by  the  second  Saturday  night,  Roger  with  a  sigh 
of  unutterable  satisfaction  announced  himself  ready 
for  a  test  of  the  plant  on  Monday.  It  was  mid- 
September  now,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  heat  were  a 
little  less  intense.  The  nights,  at  any  rate,  were  not 
so  parching.  In  spite  of  the  sadness  that  would  not 
lift,  the  little  community  was  experiencing  some  of 
the  contentment  that  comes  from  hard  work  and  sym 
pathetic  companionship. 

Roger  was  finding  that  the  regular,  well  cooked 
meals  and  the  home  life  of  the  adobe  was  making  a 
great  difference  in  his  mental  as  well  as  his  physical 
condition.  In  spite  of  the  nerve  strain  of  the  past 
months,  he  was  beginning  to  feel  that  life  never  had 
been  so  much  worth  while  as  now. 

On  the  Sunday  afternoon  before  the  test  of  the 
rebuilt  plant,  Ernest,  driven  by  Hackett,  jogged  up  to 
the  corral. 

After  the  noisy  and  excited  greetings  and  after 
Ernest's  delight  over  the  moving  of  the  plant  had 
been  expressed,  Ernest  slapped  Roger  on  the  back. 
They  all  were  talking  at  once,  on  the  adobe  porch. 

"  Here,  put  your  eye  on  that,  you  emaciated  desert 
blister  I" 

Ernest  pulled  a  bill  case  carefully  from  his  inner 
breast  pocket  and  carefully  extracted  a  check  which 
he  handed  to  Roger.  It  was  for  five  thousand 
dollars.  Roger  stared  at  it  stupidly. 

"  Browning!     Who  on  earth  is  he?  "  he  ejaculated. 

"  Smithsonian !     I  had  the  check  made  out  to  me. 


RABBIT  TAIL'S  GANG  309 

It  was  simpler.  But  I'm  going  to  make  it  payable  to 
you,  right  now." 

He  sat  down  at  the  table,  pulled  out  his  fountain 
pen  and,  signing  the  check,  handed  it  over  to  Roger. 
The  room  was  silent  for  a  moment  then,  "  Ernest/' 
faltered  Roger,  his  thin  tanned  face  working.  "  I 
can't  tell  you  —  why  old  man,  if  I'd  had  a  brother  he 
couldn't  have  done  for  me  what  you  have  done.  It's 
wonderful!  How  did  you  do  it,  Ern?  " 

Ernest  beamed.  "  There's  more  where  that  came 
from.  They're  crazy  about  your  whole  scheme." 

Roger  stood  staring  at  his  friend,  lost  in  admira 
tion.  *  You  are  a  genius,  Ernest !  Your  talents  as  a 
salesman  are  lost  on  a  college  professor." 

"  Don't  you  think  it !  When  I'm  made  President 
of  the  University,  it  will  be  because  of  my  talents  as 
a  salesman. 

Everybody  laughed.  "  Ernest,  do  tell  us  how  you 
'did  it,"  urged  Elsa. 

"  Wait  a  minute !  "  cried  Roger.  "  What  shall  I 
do  with  the  check?  "  holding  it  as  if  it  were  alive  and 
dangerous  to  the  touch. 

"  Put  it  in  your  pocket,  you  chump !  Then  have  a 
talk  with  Hackett.  He  has  a  connection  with  a  bank 
at  Los  Angeles  and  he  does  a  lot  of  banking  for  the 
miners  south  of  Archer's  Springs.  He'll  take  care  of 
it  for  you." 

"  I  can't  carry  it  in  the  pocket  of  my  shirt,  I  per 
spire  so!"  protested  Roger.  "  Why  not  shift  it  to 
Hackett  right  now  ?  " 

"  So  be  it !  "  returned  Ernest,  wearily.  "  Must  I 
hold  your  hand  while  you  do  it!  Say,  did  you  move 
my  clothes  up  here  ?  " 


310  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Our  living  tent  is  just  the  other  side  of  the  old 
tool  house,"  replied  Roger.  "  Come  along,  old  man, 
and  get  rid  of  your  store  clothes.  You  look  like  a 
tenderfoot." 

"  Farewell  to  decency  again !  "  groaned  Ernest. 

"  When  you  come  back,  supper  will  be  ready," 
called  Elsa. 

Hackett  was  sitting  in  the  shade  of  the  engine  house 
and  Roger  reached  an  understanding  with  him  very 
quickly.  He  undertook  to  act  not  only  as  Roger's 
banker  but  as  his  purchasing  agent  as  well,  and  Roger 
undertook  to  furnish  him  with  a  list  of  tools  and 
machinery  before  his  return  to  Archer's  Springs  at 
dawn. 

Gustav  was  waiting  impatiently  during  the  inter 
view,  and  when  Roger  said  with  a  sigh : 

"  Well,  I  guess  that  covers  everything,  Mr. 
Hackett,"  Gustav  put  in  quickly: 

"  Did  Ernest  tell  you  there  is  var  in  Europe.  The 
Vaterland,  England,  France,  Belgium.  Mein  Gott, 
you  should  see  the  papers  they  brought.'' 

"  Good  heavens !  War !  You  don't  mean  it ! 
Not  a  real  one,"  cried  Roger. 

"  Yes,  more  or  less  real !  Of  course,  Germany  will 
be  in  Paris  any  time  now,  and  that  will  end  it,"  said 
Ernest. 

"But  what  is  it  all  about?  War!  I  can't  believe 
it."  Roger  looked  over  the  breathless,  shimmering 
desert  to  the  far  calm  blue  of  the  River  Range. 

"  Nobody  knows  exactly  who  started  it  or  why," 
said  Hackett.  "  Looks  to  me  though  as  if  Germany 
was  trying  to  hog  Belgium." 

"  Belgium    deserves    to    be    hogged,"    exclaimed 


RABBIT  TAIL'S  GANG  311 

Ernest,  who  had  changed  his  clothes,  "  after  her 
Congo  history." 

"  But  if  it  is  var,  I  must  get  back  to  the  Vaterland," 
cried  Gustav. 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,"  returned  Ernest,  "  I  saw  Werner 
in  New  York  and  he  said  for  you  to  stay  here  till  you 
heard  from  him.  He  plans  to  be  down  this  way,  this 
fall." 

Gustav  grinned.  "  That  vas  good.  I  don't  vant 
to  go,  sure." 

"  Were  you  in  New  York  ?  "  asked  Roger  vaguely. 
"  War  in  Europe !  I  can't  realize  it." 

"  Why  try?  "  suggested  Ernest.  "  It'll  be  over  be 
fore  you  succeed.  What's  a  war  in  Europe  to  us, 
anyhow?  Let's  go  in  to  supper." 

War  was  indeed  a  vague  and  shadowy  affair  to  the 
little  desert  community:  quite  overshadowed  by  the 
importance  of  Ernest's  successful  trip.  Roger  did 
brood  a  good  deal  for  a  day  or  so  over  the  disclosures 
in  the  bundle  of  newspapers,  then  the  excitement  of 
the  testing  of  the  plant  swallowed  everything  else  in 
life. 

There  was  no  ceremony  about  this  test.  The 
memory  of  that  other  trial,  with  little  Felicia  as  the 
central  figure,  was  too  fresh  and  too  poignant.  Just 
before  the  girls  called  breakfast  on  Monday  morning, 
there  sounded  a  soft  chug,  chug  from  the  new  engine 
house.  It  was  so  very  soft  that  at  first  Charley 
thought  she  must  be  mistaken.  Then  she  slipped  out 
to  see.  Roger,  his  hot  face  tense  and  eager,  was 
standing  before  his  engine  watching  the  perfect 
mechanism  play. 

"  Look  at  her,  Charley !     Look  at  her !     Isn't  she  a 


312  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

dream  ?  Ernest,  look  at  that  indicator  —  does  she  do 
any  work?  Has  she  power?  Why  man,  she  could 
pull  the  waters  of  the  Yangtse  Kiang  up  through  the 
bowels  of  the  earth  and  throw  'em  on  Dick's  alfalfa 
fields!" 

Ernest  stood  staring  at  the  engine,  round  eyed,  his 
mouth  open !  "  Man,  what  have  you  been  putting 
over  on  me!  Why,  Rog,  the  old  girl  is  practically 
noiseless.  Throw  in  the  pump,  will  you  ?  " 

Dick  promptly  threw  in  the  pump,  but  almost  im 
mediately  roared.  "  Hey,  slow  her  down !  Slow 
her  down!  She's  going  to  pull  the  pump  up  by  the 
roots." 

"  Rog,  let's  see  your  drawings  a  minute,  you  old 
sly  boots,  you !  "  said  Ernest. 

"  You  will  laugh  at  me  and  tell  me  to  increase  the 
absorber  area,  will  you !  "  exclaimed  Roger.  "  Why, 
old  man,  I've  developed  the  low  temperature,  high 
speed  engine!  It's  the  one  the  world  has  been  look 
ing  for  for  years !  " 

In  all  the  years  Ernest  had  known  his  chum,  he 
never  had  heard  him  express  such  enthusiasm  as  this, 
over  his  own  work.  Ernest's  eyes  were  still  staring, 
his  mouth  still  open. 

"  I  believe  you  have,  Rog !  I  believe  you  have ! 
Lord,  I  wish  I'd  known  this  when  I  went  East." 

"  No  more  sweating  down  to  Hackett's  for  gaso 
line,  eh  ?  "  exclaimed  Dick. 

Roger  grinned.  "  Day  before  yesterday's  sun  is 
turning  the  wheels  just  now.  Come  on  in  to  break 
fast,  folks.  We  can  leave  her  to  herself  for  a  while." 

Then,  as  Elsa  and  Dick  followed  Ernest  up  the 
trail,  Roger  lingered  to  wipe  a  gauge  tenderly  with  a 


RABBIT  TAIL'S  GANG  313 

bit  of  waste.  As  he  did  so,  he  noticed  that  Charley 
was  standing  in  the  doorway,  her  eyes  fastened  wist 
fully  on  the  whirring  fly  wheel.  She  looked  very 
like  Felicia  in  her  blue  denim  blouse  and  skirt  and 
once  more  that  old  confusion  of  personalities  flashed 
over  Roger. 

"  It's  —  it's  like  Felicia's  own  engine,  somehow," 
said  Charley.  "  She  did  love  to  help  you  so.  I  wish 
she  knew." 

"  Charley,  dear  girl  —  we  miss  her  so,  don't  we !  " 
Roger  half  whispered. 

Charley's  lips  quivered  and  Roger,  hastily  wiping 
his  hands,  took  one  of  hers  and  carried  it  to  his  lips. 
".You  are  so  like  her!  "  he  said.  "  So  like  her!  " 

Then,  they  turned  slowly  and  joined  the  others  at 
breakfast. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   RIVER   RANGE 

ATE  in  the  afternoon,  after  the  men  had  carried 
-*-'  on  many  and  increasingly  satisfactory  tests  on 
the  Plant,  Charley  joined  Roger  on  the  porch.  The 
others  were  with  Dick  in  the  alfalfa  fields.  They  sat 
in  silence  for  a  time,  then  Charley  said, 

"  Roger,  has  it  struck  you  that  Ernest  has  been 
unlike  himself  since  his  return?  " 

Roger  pulled  at  his  pipe  and  nodded.  "  He's  put 
ting  up  a  good  front,  but  the  dear  old  boy  does  hate 
this  desert  life.  It  was  a  twist  for  him  to  come  back 
to  it." 

"  It's  more  than  that,  Roger.  He's  uneasy  and 
irritable.  That's  absolutely  abnormal  for  Ernest, 
isn't  it  ?  "  Then  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  she 
went  on.  "  Roger,  has  Ernest  given  you  any  details 
of  his  interviews  with  the  people  in  Washington?" 

"  Sure  he  has,  at  least  all  I  wanted.  He  said  he 
explained  everything  to  the  Big  Boss  down  there  and 
that  after  they  had  spent  hours  together  and  had 
gotten  Dean  Erskine  on  the  long  distance,  he  got  the 
money.  It  was  the  mistake  of  some  underling,  turn 
ing  me  down,  after  Austin's  death.  The  head  of  the 
Institution  had  supposed  I  had  been  taken  care  of." 

"  Oh ! "  murmured  Charley.  She  looked  at 
Roger's  face,  so  lined  and  tanned  and  now  for  the 
first  time  in  months  wearing  an  expression  of  relaxed 

314 


THE  RIVER  RANGE  315 

contentment.  She  bit  her  lips  and  with  an  evident 
effort  began  again. 

"  Don't  think  I'm  intruding,  Roger,  will  you,  but  I 
do  want  to  ask  you  one  more  question." 

"  You  can  ask  me  anything  on  earth,  dear  old 
Charley,"  replied  Roger. 

"  Well  then,  have  you  a  clear  understanding  of  the 
terms  on  which  the  Smithsonian  let  you  have  this 
money?  " 

"  Yes,  on  the  same  terms  we  had  with  Austin." 

"  Do  you  know  that,  or  do  you  just  take  it  for 
granted?" 

Roger  hesitated.  "  Why  —  well,  in  a  way,  I  just 
take  it  for  granted.  That  was  what  Ern  and  I  talked 
over  before  he  left.  He's  better  than  I  at  that  sort 
of  thing.  He  has  my  power  of  attorney  and  signed 
up  the  papers.  I  haven't  gone  over  this  since  he  got 
back,  I've  been  so  busy." 

"  You  won't  think  I'm  impertinent  or  nosey,  will 
you,  Roger,  if  I  ask  you  one  more  question?  "  Char 
ley's  voice  had  tones  in  it  like  Felicia's  and  Roger  was 
very  gentle  as  he  answered : 

"  Nothing  pleases  me  more  than  to  have  you  show 
interest  in  my  work,  Charley." 

"  Well  then,  let's  have  a  look  at  those  papers." 

Roger  looked  at  her  curiously.  "  You  think 
Ernest  is  as  careless  as  I?  He  isn't,  and  you  know 
I'm  careless  only  because  I  have  such  confidence  in 
him." 

Charley  nodded.  "  I  know.  Just  put  it  down  to 
female  curiosity." 

Roger  laughed  and  went  lazily  over  to  the  living 
tent,  returning  shortly  with  a  tin  document  box. 


316  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

This  he  unlocked  and  ran  rapidly,  then  again  care 
fully,  through  the  papers  it  contained. 

"  Ern  must  have  them/'  he  said  finally.  "  Come  to 
think  of  it,  he  just  spoke  of  them  but  didn't  give  them 
back  to  me.  They  must  be  in  his  box." 

"  To  which  you  have  no  access  ?  " 

Roger  shook  his  head,  still  eyeing  Charley  with 
undisguised  curiosity. 

Charley  drew  a  long  breath.  "  Roger,  there's 
something  about  this  deal  I  don't  like.  Ernest  is  so 
queer,  and  Elsa  is  worried  and  absent-minded.  And 
every  time  I  try  to  say  anything  about  Ernest's  sales 
manship  she  takes  my  head  off.  And  you  know  what 
good  friends  she  and  Ernest  are  normally.  They 
never  row  each  other.  But  now  they're  always 
quarreling  in  undertones.  I  would  think  Ernest  was 
sore  about  Elsa  and  Dick's  engagement  if  Ernest 
hadn't  told  me  before  her  and  Dick  that  he  thought 
Elsa  was  foolish  but  that  he  washed  his  hands  of  the 
matter." 

"  Nevertheless  that's  probably  what  the  worry  is 
about,"  said  Roger. 

"  No,  it's  not,"  very  decidedly.  "  This  noon  they 
were  at  it  again,  in  the  kitchen,  while  I  was  in  my  bed 
room.  I  tried  not  to  hear  them  but  all  of  a  sudden 
Ernest  shouted,  '  I  don't  see  why  I  told  you !  You've 
done  nothing  but  nag  me,  ever  since.  Werner's  all 
right  and  what  difference  does  it  make  whether  I  got 
the  money  from  him  or  the  Smithsonian  ? '  I  went 
right  out  and  told  them  what  I  had  overheard  and 
asked  them  to  be  more  careful.  Ernest  merely  said 
they  were  talking  of  a  family  matter  and  Elsa  burst 
into  tears  and  walked  away." 


THE  RIVER  RANGE  317 

Roger  laid  his  pipe  down  with  a  scowl.  "  Pshaw, 
Charley,  you're  foolish!  What  could  be  Ernest's  ob 
ject  in  deceiving  me?  He's  as  honest  as  daylight. 
He  knew  I  was  desperate  and  wouldn't  care  where 
he  got  the  money  as  long  as  there  were  no  strings 
to  it/' 

Charley  flushed  painfully.  "  I  don't  blame  you  for 
feeling  that  way.  That's  why  I  wanted  to  see  the 
papers  in  the  matter." 

"  And  why  should  Werner,"  asked  Roger,  "  put 
money  into  a  thing  he  never  saw,  when  —  Oh  rot, 
Charley!  I  thought  you  had  a  mind  like  a  nice  fel 
low  —  above  such  hen  rubbish." 

"  My  mind  is  feminine  through  and  through,"  re 
turned  Charley.  "  I  knew  you'd  scold  me.  But 
promise  me  one  thing  —  that  you'll  ask  Ernest  to  let 
you  see  the  contracts." 

"  I'll  do  that,  of  course.  I  should  have  done  it  be 
fore.  That's  being  only  businesslike." 

The  opportunity  for  the  request  came  at  the  break 
fast  table  but  in  a  manner  different  from  what  Roger 
had  planned. 

"  Somebody  ought  to  take  Mrs.  von  Minden's  tent 
idown,"  said  Charley.  "  It  looks  stark  lonely  now  at 
the  dismantled  plant." 

"  By  the  way,"  exclaimed  Ernest,  "  Roger,  we 
never  sent  that  poor  fellow's  papers  to  a  German  Con 
sul.  But  it's  just  as  well.  When  I  saw  Werner  in 
New  York  it  turned  out  that  he  knew  Von  Minden. 
He  said  he'd  forward  his  papers  to  the  proper  per 
sons." 

"  How  on  earth  did  he  know  Crazy  Dutch  ?  "  asked 
Roger. 


318  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Just  what  I  asked  him.  He  says  that  a  part  of 
his  work  in  this  country  is  to  keep  an  eye  on  all  the 
resources  of  America,  particularly  of  the  Southwest. 
They  like  to  keep  in  touch  with  the  Germans  coming 
to  this  country  and  help  them  to  a  profitable  living. 
Seems  that  Von  Minden  really  was  quite  an  engineer 
ing  pioneer  before  he  went  bug." 

"  You  never  did  say,  Ern,"  Roger's  voice  was 
casual,  "  how  you  happened  to  run  on  Werner." 

"  Didn't  run  on  him  at  all,"  replied  Ernest  irritably. 
"  I  went  up  to  see  him  on  my  way  home.  He  told  us 
to  call  on  him  if  we  ever  were  in  New  York.  And  I 
wasn't  coming  back  to  this  God  forsaken  hole  without 
seeing  Broadway.  Where  is  the  mysterious  black 
box,  Rog?" 

"  I'd  rather  send  the  papers  to  a  German  Consul, 
Ern.  Now  that  they're  in  a  state  of  war,  over  there, 
it  might  be  more  regular." 

"  I  promised  Werner  he  should  have  them.  Don't 
be  a  stick  in  the  mud,  Rog,  and  try  to  put  anything 
regular  over  on  me  after  all  your  high-handed  preda 
tory  methods  down  here." 

Roger  flushed.  "  I  haven't  taken  a  thing  that 
won't  be  paid  for  to  the  last  dollar." 

"  Well,  I'm  not  going  to  quarrel  with  you  about 
Von  Minden's  box.  I  invited  Werner  down  here  to 
inspect  the  plant  and  you  can  fight  it  out  with  him. 
He'll  fall  dead  when  he  sees  the  new  engine." 

"  I'm  not  sure  that  I  want  him  down  here,"  Roger 
scowled,  thoughtfully.  "  I  have  no  patents  as  yet  and 
I  had  an  unpleasant  experience  with  Von  Minden, 
another  with  Gustav  and  Fin  not  altogether  crazy 
about  trying  out  a  third  German." 


THE  RIVER  RANGE  319 

Gustav  gulped  his  coffee  and  walked  out  of  the 
room. 

Ernest  suddenly  flushed  deeply,  but  said  nothing. 

"  I  thought  you  were  keen  about  Germans,"  said 
Elsa. 

"  I  always  have  been,  and  I  still  am.  And  yet, 
ever  since  I've  heard  about  this  war  —  I  don't  know. 
I  feel  uneasy.  Hang  it!  Germany  had  no  business 
hogging  across  Belgium  as  she  did.  It  was  a  dirty 
trick,  just  like  the  one,  by  Jove,  Von  Minden  tried  to 
play  on  me!  Gustav,  another  German,  take  notice, 
tried  to  steal  from  me,  too !  " 

There  was  an  awkward  silence,  then  Ernest  said  a 
little  belligerently :  "  Germany  must  fulfill  her 
destiny,  no  matter  who  suffers." 

"What  is  her  destiny?"  asked  Charley,  curiously. 

"  To  rule  the  world.  The  Vaterland  is  superman. 
It's  coming  into  its  own,  now ! " 

"  Superman  fiddlesticks !  "  exclaimed  Charley. 

"  Seems  to  me  you  picked  up  a  lot  of  silly  rot  on 
this  trip  East,  Ern,"  said  Roger.  "  Who  is  this  Wer 
ner,  anyhow?  I'll  have  you  remember,  old  man, 
when  it  comes  to  a  choice,  I'm  all  American,  as  I  be 
lieve  you  are,  eh?  " 

Slowly  Ernest's  face  darkened.  Slowly  he  rose 
from  his  chair.  No  one  had  ever  before  seen  the  look 
of  passion  in  Ernest's  beautiful  eyes  that  now  blazed 
there. 

M  There's  not  a  drop  of  blood  in  my  veins,  thank 
God,  that's  not  German.  I  say  to  you  *  Deutschland 
iiber  alles,'  and  all  that  Ernest  Wolf  can  do  to  bring 
it  about,  shall  be  done." 

"  And   I   tell   you,"   Elsa  cried   suddenly,    as    she 


320  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

crossed  the  room  to  face  Ernest,  "  that  I  am  all 
American  and  I  hate  Germany  and  all  her  works.  I 
think  you've  acted  like  a  fool,  Ernest." 

"  Be  quiet,  Elsa ! "  roared  Ernest,  in  exactly  his 
father's  voice. 

"  I'll  not  be  quiet !  I'm  an  American  girl,  not  a 
German  Fraulein.  I  say  that  you've  got  to  cut  out 
all  this  superman  stuff  and  tell  Roger  where  you  got 
that  money." 

"Do  you  suppose  I'm  afraid  to  tell  him?  I  was 
just  waiting  for  Werner  to  come  to  satisfy  Roger," 
shouted  Ernest.  He  turned  to  Roger.  "  I  got  that 
money  from  Werner.  Your  Solar  Heat  Device  is 
sold  to  the  German  Government." 

There  was  a  sudden  hush  in  the  room.  Roger  sat 
hunched  in  his  chair.  Charley  and  Elsa  glanced  at 
each  other  apprehensively. 

Dick  cleared  his  throat  and  spoke  for  the  first  time. 
"  Easy,  now  Roger !  " 

Roger  did  not  seem  to  hear  him.  "  How  do  you 
mean,  you've  sold  me  to  the  German  government?  " 

"  What  I  say.  The  Smithsonian  people  turned  me 
down  cold  and  when  I  told  my  troubles  to  Werner,  he 
offered  to  help  me  out.  Germany's  crazy  to  develop 
this  neck  of  the  woods.  And  crazier  still  to  get  fel 
lows  like  you  and  me  to  using  their  influence  among 
the  educators  and  scientists  of  this  country  in  favor 
of  German  culture." 

Roger's  face  was  like  stone.  "  How  do  you  mean, 
sold  my  device  to  the  German  government?"  he  re 
peated. 

"  What  I  say !  "  roared  Ernest.  "  I  sold  it  for  fifty 
thousand  dollars.  I've  checks  for  the  rest  here  in  my 


THE  RIVER  RANGE  321 

pocket,  but  I  knew  you'd  get  your  back  up,  so  I  was 
waiting  for  Werner.  Now  listen,  Roger,  you've  the 
chance  of  a  lifetime.  You've  often  said  you  wrere 
going  to  Germany  if  this  country  failed  you,  and  it 
did." 

Roger  looked  around  the  room  in  a  dazed  way,  then 
back  at  Ernest.  "  You  sold  my  invention  —  the 
work  of  my  life  —  without  my  knowledge  or  per 
mission?  Ernest,  it  can't  be  true.  Why,  you're  my 
best  friend!" 

"  Certainly  I  am." 

"  And  you  sold  it  to  a  stranger.  Sold  me  out. 
Why  I'd  as  soon  you  sold  a  child  of  mine.  Damn  it, 
are  you  Germans  born  crooked  ?  "  He  rose  slowly. 
"  You  picked  my  brains  and  sold  the  contents.  You 
sneaked  on  me !  And  I  thought  you  were  my  friend ! 
You've  lied  to  me  ever  since  you  came  home.  Why 
did  you  lie — "  his  voice  rising  now  uncontrollably. 
"  Why  did  you  lie,  you  skunk  ?  " 

Ernest's  face  turned  purple.  He  leaned  across  the 
table  and  struck  Roger  in  the  mouth. 

"  No  one  can  say  that  to  me  ?  "  he  shouted. 

Roger  rushed  around  the  table  and  seized  Ernest  by 
the  throat.  "  Now  I'm  going  to  kill  you,"  he  said 
between  his  teeth. 

Dick,  shouting  foV  Gustav,  fought  to  break  Roger's 
hold.  Gustav  came  rushing  over  the  porch. 

When  Roger  next  was  fully  conscious  of  himself 
he  was  climbing  from  the  desert  up  onto  a  broad 
mesa.  The  sun  was  sinking  behind  the  mountains 
into  which  the  mesa  merged.  When  he  reached  the 
crest  of  the  mesa,  Roger  paused,  shaken  and  breath 
less.  There  was  the  scramble  of  little  footsteps  be- 


322  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

hind  him  and  Roger  turned  to  look.  Peter,  packless 
and  breathing  hard,  was  following  him.  Roger  drew 
his  shirt  sleeves  across  his  eyes.  He  knew  that  Gus- 
tav  and  Dick  had  pulled  him  away  from  Ernest. 
How  much  he  had  injured  Ernest  he  did  not  know, 
nor,  for  the  present,  did  he  care.  He  recalled  that, 
with  Ernest  motionless  on  the  floor,  the  others  had 
united  in  denouncing  him,  that  Charley  had  turned 
on  him  with  furious  eyes.  Then  he  had  fled.  Not 
toward  Archer's  Springs  where  he  was  known.  But 
with  a  vague  idea  of  crossing  the  Colorado  into  Cali 
fornia,  he  had  turned  westward. 

He  was  fleeing  not  from  fear  nor  from  cowardice. 
He  was  fleeing  because  with  the  discovery  of  Ernest's 
duplicity,  the  entire  edifice  of  his  life  had  tumbled  into 
ruins.  A  great  loathing  of  the  desert,  of  the  work  he 
had  attempted  there,  but  most  of  all,  a  red  hate  for 
Ernest,  carried  him  across  the  many  burning  miles  of 
desert  to  the  foothills  of  the  River  Range.  A  blind 
desire  to  get  away  from  it  all,  to  lose  himself  forever, 
to  forget  all  that  he  had  ever  been  or  known,  but 
above  everything  to  get  away  from  Ernest  was  for 
the  time  being  the  motive  force  of  his  existence. 

He  was  carrying  a  bag  of  grub  and  his  two  gallon 
canteen  which  still  was  heavy  with  water.  For  a 
moment  Roger  considered  some  method  of  transfer 
ring  his  burden  to  the  burro's  little  back.  But  Peter 
was  so  small,  so  winded,  that  he  gave  up  the  idea  and 
trudged  on  to  the  west.  Peter  fell  in  after  him  and 
two  scarcely  discernible  specks  on  the  immense  floor 
of  the  mesa  they  moved  toward  the  black  mountain 
top  lifting  before  them.  There  was  no  sound  save 
that  of  their  own  footsteps.  There  was  no  verdure 


THE  RIVER  RANGE  323 

here  except  the  martial  figures  of  the  great  cacti,  those 
soldiers  of  the  waste,  that  guard  the  eternal  solitudes. 
There  was  no  wind.  Only  a  breathless  sense  of 
brooding  in  the  remote  wonder  of  the  sky.  The 
desert  is  a  hard  country;  a  country  to  try  out  the 
mettle  of  a  man  and  leave  it  all  dross  or  pure  gold. 

It  was  starlight  when  Roger  and  Peter  reached  the 
top  of  the  range.  Beyond  dimly  lay  another  range. 

Roger  resolved  to  camp  for  the  night  in  the  valley 
below.  Peter  was  reluctant  to  go  farther.  In  fact 
for  the  last  hour,  Roger  had  been  obliged  to  lead  him. 
The  way  down  was  very  precipitous  and  they  had  not 
covered  a  third  of  it  wrhen  Roger  slipped  and  fell. 
He  did  not  lose  his  grip  on  the  lead  rope  an'd  at  the 
sudden  jerk  the  little  burro  pitched  forward  after 
Roger.  But  Peter  got  his  balance  immediately  and 
threw  himself  back  on  his  shoulders,  bracing  h*s 
feet  against  the  roots  of  a  giant  cactus  and  stood 
fast. 

Roger  dangled  helplessly  over  a  black  drop  for  a 
few  seconds,  then  with  the  aid  of  the  lead  rope  he 
crawled  up  to  the  root  of  .another  cactus  where  he 
lay  for  a  moment.  Then  he  started  on  downward,, 
zig-zagging  carefully  this  time  as  one  should  descend 
a  trailless  mountain. 

Roger  slept  fitfully  in  the  sand  at  the  bottom  of  the 
valley,  waking  and  rising  at  the  first  peep  of  dawn. 
Peter  had  fared  rather  well.  There  were  grass  tufts 
growing  at  the  roots  of  the  great  cacti,  around  about. 
Roger  ate  a  cold  breakfast.  He  found  a  rough  hol 
low  in  a  rock,  where  he  gave  Peter  a  small  drink  of 
water,  then  he  started  on.  But,  although  he  cursed 
the  little  burro  roundly,  Peter  again  was  reluctant  to 


324  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

move  westward,  and  Roger  had  again  to  take  hold 
of  the  lead  rope. 

All  day  long,  he  continued  the  march  westward. 
This  range  was  like  the  Coyote  Range,  though  there 
were  more  passes  through  the  ridges,  so  that  had  he 
been  able  to  find  a  trail,  he  could  have  moved  rapidly. 
But  the  way  underfoot  was  inconceivably  rough  and 
by  noon  Roger's  shoes  were  cut  and  his  feet  bruised 
and  bleeding.  But  he  never  for  a  moment  considered 
turning  back.  He  was  through  —  through  with  the 
old  work  which  had  brought  him  only  disappoint 
ment,  through  with  the  old  affections  which  had  only 
played  him  false.  Even  Peter  who  had  come  with 
him  voluntarily  was  now  trying  to  turn  back. 

It  was  late  afternoon  when  they  reached  a  low 
mountain  shoulder.  As  they  breasted  its  crest,  Peter 
raised  his  tail  and  brayed,  starting  forward  at  a  trot. 
Roger  followed  to  the  mountain  edge.  The  valley  of 
the  Colorado  lay  before  him,  a  narrow  valley  here, 
with  a  range  of  mountains  on  the  opposite  side  lifting 
brilliant  peaks  against  the  afternoon  sky.  The  valley 
was  sandy  and  the  river  looked  shallow  and  slow  mov 
ing,  with  arrow-weed  growing  along  its  edge. 

Peter  led  the  way  down.  Roger  had  been  for 
tunate  in  the  time  he  chose  for  his  crossing.  The 
river  was  at  its  lowest  level,  sliding  lazily  over  the 
sand.  As  Roger  descended  the  mountain  he  found 
water  marks  where  at  flood,  the  river  had  filled  the 
valley  and  gnawed  deep  into  the  vitals  of  the  range. 
He  followed  the  burro  across  the  sand  to  the  water's 
edge.  Peter  buried  his  nose  in  the  stream,  then  rolled 
himself  joyfully  in  the  moist  sand,  snorting  and  blow 
ing.  Roger  stood  staring  at  the  little  fellow.  Then 


THE  RIVER  RANGE  325 

as  Peter  began  to  crop  the  coarse  grass  which  grew 
in  sparse  clumps  among  the  straight  stalks  of  the 
arrow-weed,  Roger  gathered  together  some  bits  of 
drift  wood  for  his  supper  fire. 

He  fried  some  bacon,  made  coffee,  and  seated  him 
self  in  the  sand.  Peter  dropped  his  soft  nose  over 
Roger's  shoulders,  and  ate  the  bacon  rinds  one  by 
one,  then  crowding  still  closer,  tried  to  nibble  at  the 
cracker  Roger  was  devouring. 

"  Hang  you,  Pete,  get  round  on  the  other  side  of 
the  fire !  "  exclaimed  Roger. 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  spoken  in  several  hours 
and  the  sound  of  his  own  voice  startled  him.  Peter 
trotted  obediently  around  and  stood  opposite,  head 
drooping  as  if  in  thought.  Strangely  small  and  gray 
he  looked;  strangely  wise  as  if  the  same  weathering 
of  the  centuries  that  had  worn  the  mountain  peaks 
into  shapes  of  brooding  significance  had  worn  his 
little  gray  head  into  the  semblance  of  Wise  Patience, 
itself. 

When  Roger  had  finished  his  meal,  and  packed,  he 
walked  slowly  up  and  down  the  river  bank.  But 
nowhere  could  he  see  a  better  place  for  crossing  than 
at  the  spot  where  he  had  built  his  fire.  Here  a  small 
island  amid  stream  made  the  crossing  seem  possible. 
He  found  a  cottonwood  log  to  which  he  tied  his  food 
pack  and  canteen  as  well  as  his  clothes  which  he  took 
off  and  rolled  up.  He  fastened  Peter  to  a  clump  of 
arrow-weed,  then  waded  out  into  the  stream,  pushing 
the  log  before  him. 

The  water  was  very  cold  and  the  current  much 
swifter  than  Roger  had  anticipated  but  he  was  an  ex 
cellent  swimmer  and  though  the  current  carried  him 


326  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

well  down  stream,  he  made  a  safe  landing  on  the 
island  with  all  his  goods  and  chattels.  Then  he  went 
back  for  Peter.  He  could  not  bear  the  thought  of 
going  on  alone. 

The  lead  rope  was  long.  Roger  pulled  the  reluc 
tant  Peter  to  the  water's  edge,  plunged  in  and  was 
swimming  violently  in  the  current  before  the  rope 
stretched  taut  and  he  realized  that  Peter  was  braced, 
stiff-legged  on  the  bank.  Roger  swam  back  and 
climbed  out  of  the  water. 

"  Come,  Peter,"  he  said  gently.  "  I'll  swim  beside 
you  so  you  needn't  be  afraid." 

Peter  moved  his  long  ears  back  and  forth. 

"  Come !  Come !  Don't  make  me  beat  you.  Come, 
Peter/' 

Peter  did  not  stir.  Roger  picked  up  a  bit  of  drift 
wood  and  belaboured  Peter's  gray  sides,  but  the  beating 
might  have  been  a  sand  flea  hopping  on  him  for  all  it 
appeared  to  move  Peter. 

'*  Darn  you,  Peter !  "  shouted  Roger.  "  Have  you 
quit  me  too?  I  tell  you,  you  shall  not!  Come  now, 
I.'m  too  tired  to  argue." 

He  plunged  once  more  into  the  water,  once  more 
swam  into  the  current,  whistling  Peter's  call  as  he 
did  so.  But  to  no  avail.  When  he  reached  the  bank 
this  time  he  was  angry.  He  roared  at  Peter  and 
kicked  at  him  with  his  bare  toes.  But  he  kicked  him 
only  once.  Peter's  ribs  were  strong  and  none  too 
well  covered. 

Peter  looked  at  Roger's  thin  white  body  and  his 
brown  angry  face,  moved  his  ears,  breathed  hard  and 
snorted. 

Roger  roared  again.     "All  right,  sir!     All  right, 


THE  RIVER  RANGE  327 

sir!  If  you  won't  come  with  me,  neither  shall  you  go 
back  to  the  Germans  and  their  sympathizers.  I'll  fix 
you,  young  fellow !  " 

He  led  Peter  up  to  a  mesquite  tree  and  with 
trembling  fingers  tied  the  little  gray  head  as  high  as 
he  could  pull  it. 

"  There,"  he  said,  "  you  can  stay  there  till  the  buz 
zards  get  you "  and  without  a  backward  glance  he 
swam  once  more  across  to  the  island. 

Here  he  dressed  and  lay  for  a  time  resting  in  the 
sand.  The  sun  had  sunk  behind  the  ranges.  The 
night  shadows  in  the  valley  were  cool.  Partly  be 
cause  of  this,  partly  from  sheer  nervous  and  physical 
exhaustion,  Roger  shivered.  Finally  when  twilight 
had  settled  in  the  valley,  he  sat  up  and  gazed  across 
the  river.  It  was  too  dark  to  see  Peter.  There  was 
only  the  murmur  of  the  river  in  all  that  barren  solitude. 
Then  suddenly  Peter  brayed.  It  was  not  the  usual 
ridiculous  hee  haw  of  the  burro  but  a  strange  blending 
of  whinny  and  scream.  Roger  shuddered  and  told 
himself  that  he  would  keep  Peter  company  just  a  little 
longer,  then  move  on. 

The  desert  night  came  on  quickly  and  completely. 
The  great  desert  stars  had  pricked  out  before  the  last 
light  had  left  the  mountain  tops.  An  hour  passed, 
then  two.  Roger  was  too  weary  to  build  a  fire,  too 
wretched  to  sleep.  He  sat  huddled  in  the  sand,  his 
head  against  a  great  cottonwood  log,  his  face  toward 
the  river.  A  dim  red  edge  began  to  show  over  the 
ranges.  It  lifted  into  a  crescent,  then  into  a  half 
circle.  Suddenly  the  little  valley  was  flooded  with 
white  light  and  the  moon  sailed  free  over  the  sliding 
river. 


328  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Roger  stared  eagerly  toward  the  mesquite  tree. 
Peter  stood  unmoving,  his  little  gray  head  turned  up 
ward,  his  sturdy  neck  seeming  unusually  long  and  thin, 
stretched  thus  unnaturally.  It  seemed  curious  to 
Roger  that  the  burro  did  not  kick  nor  lunge.  But 
Peter's  patience,  won  by  who  knows  what  beaten  and 
burdened  ancestry,  did  not  desert  him.  He  did  not 
tug  at  his  rope  but  he  brayed  again,  as  if  he  were  giv 
ing  an  eerie  shriek  of  warning. 

Roger  bit  his  nails  nervously,  then  hollowed  out  a 
bed  in  the  sand  and  lying  down  tried  to  sleep.  The 
stars  glowed  down  on  him  quietly.  From  where  he 
lay  he  could  see  Peter.  The  little  gray  head  must  be 
tired.  How  Felicia  had  loved  the  little  burro.  Used 
to  wash  his  face  and  brush  his  foolish  mane.  Felicia! 
Little  lost  Felicia !  Roger  groaned  and  sat  up. 

His  moment  of  reckoning  had  arrived,  as  it  arrives 
once  to  every  man. 

First  he  thought  of  Felicia.  He  recalled  that  first 
day  on  the  train  when  she  had  sat  in  his  lap  so  long 
and  he  had  felt  the  whisper  of  fate  in  their  meeting. 
He  came  down  through  the  desert  days  with  her.  How 
pitifully  few  there  were  of  them,  after  all!  And  he 
lived  them  over,  one  by  one.  He  recalled  her  loveli 
ness,  her  childish  curiosity,  her  love  of  his  work.  He 
thought  of  her  affection  and  of  her  timidity,  her  shrink 
ing  fear  of  a  rough  word.  And  suddenly  he  groaned 
and  said  aloud : 

"  Thank  God  in  His  mercy  that  she  didn't  see  me 
when  I  throttled  Ernest !  " 

Ernest!  The  friend  of  his  boyhood  and  his  young 
manhood.  Generous,  sweet-tempered,  easy  going 
Ernest!  How  patiently  he  had  endured  Roger's 


THE  RIVER  RANGE  329 

temper!  How  loyally  he  had  devoted  himself  to 
Roger's  experiments.  How  utterly  he  had  given 
himself  to  their  friendship.  Why  had  he  betrayed 
Roger  at  the  last?  What  had  happened?  Roger's 
brain  seemed  on  fire  as  he  turned  over  in  his  mind 
the  events  that  had  led  to  Tuesday's  tragedy.  Char 
ley  had  come  to  him  and  had  said :  — 

Well  —  no  matter  what  she  had  said.  Long  be 
fore  she  had  told  him  that  his  life  failure  was  due  to 
his  selfish  indifference  to  other  people.  He  remem 
bered  that  he  had  not  believed  her.  But  now  the 
words  seemed  seared  into  his  brain. 

Roger  took  a  long  drink,  then  as  methodically  as  -he 
could  he  examined  his  own  temperament.  First,  he 
tried  to  consider  himself  as  if  he  were  Ernest  looking 
at  Roger.  What  had  Roger  ever  done  for  Ernest? 
He  had  been  a  constant  spur  to  Ernest  mentally, 
forcing  him  into  new  fields  of  research  and  experi 
ment,  but  only  after  all,  for  Roger's  own  purposes,  or 
Roger's  own  ideas.  What  return  had  Roger  ever 
made  for  the  exquisite  hospitality  of  Ernest's  home 
and  the  tenderness  of  Ernest's  mother?  None! 
None  whatever!  What  return  even  in  kindness  had 
Roger  ever  made  for  Ernest's  untiring  efforts  to  pro 
mote  the  solar  device.  Once  more  Roger  whispered 
huskily : 

"None!     None  at  all!     Less  than  nothing!" 

So  Ernest  must  see  him  as  a  brain  devoid  of  any 
human  qualities  save  that  of  quick  temper.  Thank 
heaven,  Felicia  never  had  seen  him  angry  but  once! 
But  Charley  had  seen  every  red  hate  that  had  swept  him 
since  he  had  come  to  the  desert.  What  would  he  not 
give  if  this  were  not  so!  More  than  any  one  in  the 


330  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

world,  he  suddenly  thought,  he  wanted  Charley's  good 
opinion.  And  how  must  she  see  him?  Impatient, 
ugly  tempered,  selfish, —  excepting  toward  Felicia. 
Thank  God,  she  had  seen  how  he  had  loved  that  little 
child. 

And  so,  here  he  was  at  thirty,  a  failure.  It  was 
better  to  acknowledge  it  now :  to  admit  that  the  fault 
was  his;  to  go  on  into  some  mining  camp  and  lose 
himself  than  to  drag  on  making  a  fool  of  himself  at 
the  Sun  Plant.  He  would  rest  a  little  longer,  then 
start  on  in  the  moonlight. 

Once  more  Roger  stretched  himself  out  on  his  bed  of 
sand.  As  he  did  so,  Peter  brayed  again.  Roger 
jumped  to  his  feet,  the  cold  sweat  starting  from  his 
forehead.  Felicia's  little  burro!  What  devil  could 
have  entered  into  him  that  he  could  treat  a  dumb 
brute  so !  He  tore  off  his  clothing  and  jumped  into 
the  water.  It  was  not  easy  to  breast  the  current,  he 
was  so  tired.  But  he  made  the  bank  and  staggering 
up  to  the  mesquite  tree,  he  untied  Peter. 

"  There,  old  man,"  he  said  gently,  "  go  back  to  your 
friends." 

Then  he  turned  to  cross  the  river.  He  was  carried 
far  below  his  camp  this  time  and  for  some  minutes 
after  he  landed  he  lay  naked  and  exhausted  before  he 
could  urge  himself  back  to  the  cotton  wood  log  and 
climb  into  his  clothing. 

He  was  in  a  state  now  of  utter  despair.  No  grief, 
no  anger  can  bring  to  the  human  mind  the  depth  of 
suffering  that  self-loathing  can.  Roger  lay  with  his 
forehead  pillowed  on  his  arm,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life  facing  his  own  weaknesses.  Just  in  the  degree 
that  his  brain  was  clearer,  his  mind  more  honest,  his 


THE  RIVER  RANGE  331 

nerves  more  highly  strung  than  other  men's,  just  in 
that  degree  did  he  suffer  more. 

Perhaps,  after  a  time,  he  slipped  into  a  half  doze. 
But  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  touch  on  his  forehead 
was  his  mother's.  No,  it  was  Felicia's  or  was  it 
Charley's?  Again  Charley  and  Felicia  merged  in  his 
mind.  Felicia  was  looking  at  him  with  adoring  eyes. 
Thank  God  once  more  that  she  could  never  grow  up 
to  know  the  truth  about  him.  But  she  had  grown  up 
and  was  stooping  over  him  with  a  gentle  hand  on  his 
forehead  as  if  she  understood  him  and  forgave  him  a 
thousand  times  over. 

It  was  Charley,  of  course,  Charley  with  the  great 
heart  and  the  seeing  mind.  What  an  awful  thing  for 
him  to  have  brought  another  failure  to  the  valley! 
Charley  had  had  a  sad  life.  Perhaps  she  had  had 
dreams  of  her  own,  before  she  merged  her  destiny 
with  Dick's.  Dick  was  a  poor  weakling.  But 
Felicia's  death  had  saved  him.  Dick  was  a  man  now. 
If  Felicia  had  seen  him  attack  Ernest,  she  would  have 
run  away  to  her  death,  just  as  she  had  for  Dick's 
frenzy.  Potentially,  he  was  a  murderer  too.  But 
now  he  was  a  failure  and  as  far  as  his  red  devil  was 
concerned,  Felicia  had  died  in  vain. 

Roger's  heart  seemed  to  stop  beating  with  the  hor 
ror  of  this  thought.  Try  as  he  would  he  could  not 
get  away  from  the  idea  that  potentially  he  shared 
Dick's  guilt.  And  Felicia  had  been  sacrificed  in  vain. 
Suddenly  he  clenched  his  fists.  No,  by  heaven,  this 
should  not  be ! 

Roger  pulled  himself  to  his  knees  beside  the  cotton- 
wood  log  and  lifted  his  ravished  face  to  the  stars. 

"  Listen,  God !  "  he  shouted.     "  It  was  not  in  vain ! 


332  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

I'm  going  back!  I'm  going  back  to  Felicia  and 
Charley  and  prove  myself  a  man.  I  don't  know  why 
Ernest  did  it.  But  that  doesn't  matter.  I'm  going 
back.  Listen  to  me,  God !  " 

Half  kneeling,  half  crouching,  with  the  sinking 
moon  touching  his  burning  eyes,  his  trembling  lips, 
Roger  watched  the  great  compassionate  desert  stars  as 
if  waiting  for  an  answer.  And  as  he  waited,  the 
answer  came.  Roger  whispered  as  if  in  reply. 

"  Yes !  Yes !  I  love  her !  I  love  her !  I  love  her ! 
Oh,  Charley,  my  darling!  I'm  coming  back  to  you 
and  show  you  that  Felicia  did  not  die  in  vain !  " 

Then  he  slipped  down  into  the  sand  and  fell  asleep 
as  deeply,  as  sweetly  as  a  child,  and  the  quiet  stars 
looked  down  upon  the  dark  slender  figure  with  in 
finite  understanding. 

The  first  rays  of  the  sun  roused  Roger.  He  lay  for 
a  time  blinking  and  trying  to  account  for  the  peace 
and  happiness  of  which  he  was  conscious  from  the 
instant  he  opened  his  eyes.  After  a  moment,  memory 
spoke  and  he  jumped  to  his  feet  and  stretched  himself. 
Then  he  gave  a  sudden  shout. 

"  Oh,  I  say,  old  Peter !  You  are  a  good  scout ! 
Waiting  for  me,  are  you?  Hang  it!  I  couldn't 
blame  you  if  you  were  just  waiting  to  kick  my  brains 
out.  Just  hold  on  till  I  get  some  breakfast  and  I'll 
be  with  you." 

At  Roger's  shout,  Peter  left  off  his  desultory  brows 
ing,  lifted  his  tail  and  brayed,  an  honest  old  fashioned 
bray  that  set  Roger  at  his  breakfast  getting  with  a 
broad  grin. 

The  sun  was  not  an  hour  high  when  the  two  started 
on  the  home  trail.  Peter  scorned  the  lead  rope  now 


THE  RIVER  RANGE  333 

but  led  the  way  nimbly,  finding  a  far  easier  trail  than 
Roger  had  dragged  him  over  the  day  before.  Roger 
was  tired  and  stiff.  He  was  dirty  and  unshaven. 
But  he  was  happy;  happy  as  he  had  never  dreamed  of 
being;  too  happy,  too  utterly  brain  weary  to  think. 
He  only  knew  that  he  was  going  home  to  Charley. 

They  reached  the  mesa  that  evening,  at  sundown. 
With  all  the  desire  in  the  world,  Roger  could  not  go 
on.  So  he  made  camp  in  a  little  draw  and  lay  down 
to  sleep.  He  did  not  waken  until  morning. 

It  was  well  toward  supper  time  when  Roger  reached 
the  ranch.  There  was  no  one  to  be  seen.  Roger 
turned  Peter  into  the  corral  and  fed  him,  then  went  into 
the  living  tent,  shaved  and  changed  his  clothing.  Char 
ley,  Elsa  and  Dick  were  at  supper  when  Roger  en 
tered  and  with  a  quick  sense  of  remorse  he  saw  that 
each  face  turned  toward  him  wore  a  look  of  startled 
anxiety.  He  paused  in  the  doorway,  the  lamp 
glow  disclosing  the  lines  of  exhaustion  around  his 
mouth. 

"  Hello,"  he  said,  huskily,  "  I've  come  back  to  you 
people,  if  you'll  have  me!  " 

Elsa  was  the  first  to  rush  to  him.  "  Oh,  Roger,  did 
you  really  want  to  come  back?  "  she  cried. 

Roger  stooped  and  kissed  her  cheek.  "  Want  to 
come  back?  Why,  I've  almost  died  of  impatience 
getting  back." 

Dick  shoved  Elsa  gently  aside.  "  I'm  sure  things 
can  be  fixed  up,  Roger,"  he  said.  "  Ernest  isn't  —  " 

Roger  interrupted  by  placing  both  hands  on  Dick's 
shoulders.  "  Old  man,"  he  said.  "  The  important 
thing  to  me  now  is  for  you  to  understand  how  I  feel 
about  you,  how  I  understand  what  you've  been 


334  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

through  and  how  I  need  your  help,  just  because  of 
what  you've  been  through." 

There  was  a  sudden  silence.  Charley,  her  great 
eyes  on  Roger's  face,  did  not  move.  Dick  cleared  his 
throat. 

"  Why  —  why  —  Roger !  —  My  God  —  do  you 
mean  it?  That  you  don't  hate  me  any  more?  Don't 
bluff  me,  Roger!  I've  been  in  too  lonely  a  hell. 
What's  happened  to  you,  Rog? " 

"  I've  come  to,"  replied  Roger,  dropping  his  hands 
from  Dick's  shoulders  and  crossing  the  room  to  stand 
before  Charley. 

She  had  risen  and  was  standing  quietly  behind  her 
chair.  Roger,  with  his  eyes  on  hers,  lifted  both  her 
hands  against  his  breast. 

"Charley!"  he  said,  huskily,  "Oh,  Charley! 
Charley!  "  and  then,  his  voice  and  his  will  failed  him 
and  he  bowed  his  head  on  her  shoulder. 

Charley  freed  one  hand  and  laid  it  on  his  head. 
"  Poor  child!  "  she  murmured.  "  Poor  old  Roger!  " 

Elsa  sniffed  in  a  manner  peculiarly  like  a  sob,  and 
Roger  raised  his  head  with  a  sheepish  laugh. 

"  I  guess  I'm  about  all  in,"  he  said. 

"  You're  hungry  and  tired  out,"  exclaimed  Charley. 
""  Sit  down,  Roger  and  have  some  supper." 

There  was  a  little  flurry  of  bringing  fresh  plates  and 
an  extra  chair  and  the  interrupted  meal  was  begun 
again. 

"  Where  on  earth  did  you  go,  Roger  ?  "  asked  Elsa. 
(<  We  saw  you  start  straight  across  the  valley." 

"  I  got  as  far  as  the  river.  I  didn't  do  Ernest  any 
real  damage,  did  I  ?  "  Roger  looked  at  Dick  inquir 
ingly. 


THE  RIVER  RANGE  335 

"  I  guess  not.  He  seems  to  have  worked  around,  as 
usual.  He  and  Gustav  went  into  Archer's  Springs 
yesterday." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  then  Elsa  said,  "  What 
do  you  intend  to  do,  Roger?  " 

Roger  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork,  dejectedly. 
"  I  don't  know !  How  could  a  man  like  Ernest  do 
such  a  rotten  trick !  " 

"  He  refused  to  make  us  any  explanation  what 
ever,"  said  Dick.  "  As  far  as  I'm  concerned,  I'm 
through  with  him  unless  he  comes  across  with  a  satis 
factory  statement.  I  don't  like  the  look  of  the  whole 
thing.'' 

"  Elsa  agrees  with  Dick  and  me,"  Charley  looked  at 
Elsa's  troubled  face  sympathetically,  "  that  Ernest's 
got  to  be  kept  in  Coventry  until  something  drastic  is 
done.  We  were  all  hoping  and  believing  that  you'd 
come  back  to  see  the  matter  through." 

Roger  finished  his  second  cup  of  coffee  in  deep 
thought.  "  I'll  have  to  have  a  talk  with  Ernest,"  he 
said,  finally. 

"  Hackett  brought  in  the  new  pump  yesterday  morn 
ing/'  said  Dick.  "  He  brought  a  bunch  of  news 
papers.  We've  been  floored  by  their  contents." 

'  Yes,"  exclaimed  Charley,  "  the  war  news  is  un 
believable." 

"  They've  sacked  Louvain !  "  cried  Elsa. 

"  Who  sacked  Louvain  ?  It  sounds  like  the  Dark 
Ages !  "  asked  Roger. 

"  The  Germans !  "  Elsa,  evidently  controlling  her 
voice  with  difficulty  went  on,  "  They've  shot  old 
women  and  children  as  hostages.  Hostages!  Why 
that  word  belongs  to  the  Dark  Ages.  It's  unbeliev- 


336  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

able !  And  the  library —  all  those  priceless  things  are 
burned." 

"Good  God!"  exclaimed  Roger.  Then,  "What 
does  Ernest  say  to  this  ?  " 

"None  of  us  have  talked  to  him  since  you  left," 
said  Charley. 

"But  whether  it's  a  war  of  offense  or  defense, 
there's  no  excuse  for  that  sort  of  thing.  I  thought 
German  culture  —  "  Roger  paused  and  Elsa  cut  in 
excitedly  — 

"  Culture !  I  tell  you  they  never  were  cultured,  the 
Germans.  Look  at  Professor  Rosenthal  and  Dad  and 
Ernest.  How  deep  is  their  so-called  culture?  Bah! 
Petty  tyrants  in  their  homes  and  bloody  savages,  I'll 
bet,  if  they  run  amuck." 

"  Keep  your  hair  on,  Elsa,  old  dear."  Dick  patted 
the  excited  girl  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Some  one's  coming  up  the  trail,"  exclaimed 
Charley. 

There  was  a  footstep  on  the  porch  as  she  spoke  and 
Ernest  appeared  in  the  doorway.  His  face  was  sullen 
and  he  made  no  pretense  of  a  greeting. 

"  I  came  up  to  say  that  Mr.  Werner  will  be  here  to 
morrow  and  it  will  be  necessary  for  you  to  see  both  him 
and  me,  Roger,  and  settle  this  miserable  affair.  We'll 
come  up  as  soon  as  Werner  arrives,  probably  late  in 
the  afternoon." 

Ernest  turned  abruptly  on  his  heel.  Roger  sprang 
to  his  feet.  Charley  laid  a  quick  hand  on  his  arm. 
Roger  gave  her  a  glance.  "  It's  all  right,  Charley. 
Don't  worry!  Hold  on,  Ernest.  We'll  have  this 
thing  out  right  now." 


THE  RIVER  RANGE  337 

Ernest  turned  back  slowly.  "  There's  nothing  to 
have  out.  A  man  has  a  right  to  his  own  political 
opinion.  And  as  for  the  Werner  matter,  you  insulted 
me  for  doing  you  a  favor  and  I'm  through  with  you." 

"  Favor !  "  gasped  Roger.  "  Why  Ernest,  you're 
crazy!  You  lied  to  me  and  sneaked  on  me  and  it 
wasn't  to  do  me  a  favor,  at  all.  It  was  for  Ger 
many.  That's  what  gets  all  our  goats.  For  Ger 
many!  " 

"  Well,  what's  the  matter  with  Germany  ?  You've 
worshiped  at  her  shrine  all  these  years,  haven't  you? 
And  now  in  her  hour  of  need,  you  turn  against  her/' 
sneered  Ernest. 

Roger  looked  from  Charley  to  Dick  in  utter  bewil 
derment.  "  Germany's  hour  of  need !  The  hour  of 
need  of  a  horde  of  vandals. —  Where's  your  common 
sense,  Ern  ?  " 

"  It's  a  Dutchman's  logic,  Roger,  that's  all !  "  cried 
Elsa.  "  You're  just  beginning  to  recognize  it!  Lord, 
I  was  brought  up  on  it !  " 

"  Oh,  dry  up,  Elsa !  You  were  always  a  disloyal 
minx,"  growled  Ernest.  "  Now,  you  folks  are  wel 
come  to  think  what  you  please.  I'm  not  like  Roger, 
ready  to  murder  a  man  who  has  a  different  political 
opinion  from  me.  I'm  going  to  see  that  Werner's 
given  a  square  deal,  then  I'm  going  to  quit  the  whole 
bunch  of  you." 

"  Look  here,  Ern,  you've  got  to  straighten  this  busi 
ness  out,"  insisted  Roger.  "  Crazy  Dutch  and  Werner 
and  Gustav  and  you!  It's  a  dirty  deal,  somehow. 
Just  why  did  you  turn  on  your  best  friend,  Ernest?  " 

"  Turn  on  my  best  friend !     I  like  that  from  you, 


338  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

with  your  devil's  temper.  And  you've  turned  nasty 
nice  all  of  a  sudden,  about  where  you  get  your  money, 
after  robbing  all  the  mines  around  here." 

"  You  know  I've  sent- a  list  of  everything  I've  taken 
from  each  mine  to  each  mine  owner  and  asked  him  to 
send  a  bill !  "  shouted  Roger. 

"  Huh !  That  may  be,  but  when  it  comes  to  giving 
Mr.  Werner  a  chance  at  the  Solar  Plant,  I  recalled  all 
that  and  didn't  suppose  you'd  be  finicky." 

Roger's  drawn  face  burned.  Felicia's  clock  on  the 
mantel  ticked  and  Charley's  deep  eyes  did  not  leave 
Roger's  clenched  fists.  He  ground  his  teeth,  then 
drew  a  long  breath. 

f*  That  was  a  rotten  thing  to  say  to  me,  Ern,  but  I 
guess  I  deserved  part  of  it.  Of  course,  the  contract 
with  Werner's  got  to  be  broken,  and  I  want  you  to 
chew  on  this.  You've  got  to  choose  between  Werner 
and  me.  Our  friendship  ends  unless  you  drop  Ger 
many." 

"  Oh,  hell ! "  grunted  Ernest  and  he  turned  and  dis 
appeared  into  the  night. 

Elsa  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  began  to  gather 
up  the  dishes.  Charley  followed  her  example  mechan 
ically.  Roger  and  Dick  lighted  their  pipes  and  stood 
with  their  backs  to  the  empty  fireplace,  and  no  one 
spoke  until  the  dishes  were  finished  and  the  girls  were 
seated  with  their  sewing. 

Then,  "  By  Jove,"  said  Dick.  "  I  don't  know  what 
to  suggest." 

"  Neither  do  I,"  echoed  Roger.  "  But  this  much  I 
know.  The  main  point  is  to  save  Ernest.  The  Solar 
Plant  is  secondary.  He's  got  to  do  what's  right  in 
this." 


THE  RIVER  RANGE  339 

"  You'll  never  get  away  with  it,  Roger,"  exclaimed 
Dick.  "  Ernest  really  believes  in  this  superman  stuff. 
He's  a  German." 

"  He's  got  to  do  what's  right,"  repeated  Roger,  this 
time  with  a  tired  break  in  his  voice.  "  I  feel  as  if  I'd 
never  believe  in  a  man  again  unless  he  does.  What 
can  I  do,  Elsa?" 

Elsa  shook  her  head.  "  I  don't  know.  If  you  peo 
ple  will  think  back  you'll  realize  you've  all  been  raised 
on  adulation  of  Germany.  Ernest  is  merely  the  logi 
cal  product  of  his  ancestry  and  environment." 

"How  did  you  escape  the  poison,  Elsa?"  asked 
Charley. 

"  Overstuffed,"  she  replied.  "  And  I'm  not  alone. 
There's  any  number  of  us  American  children  of  Ger 
man  parents  who've  been  fed  up  on  the  *  Vaterland ' 
stuff." 

"  Elsa,"  asked  Dick,  suddenly,  "  is  Ernest  a  spy?  " 

The  girl  turned  crimson.  Roger  interrupted 
quickly :  "  Oh,  I  say,  Dick,  give  Ernest  first  chance  to 
answer  that  question." 

"  No,  I'll  answer  it,"  replied  Elsa.  "  He  wasn't  up 
to  the  time  he  came  to  the  desert,  I'm  sure.  He  was 
just  wonderfully  prepared  soil,  ready  for  the  planting 
of  any  sort  of  seed.  What  Mr.  Werner  did  to  him,  I 
don't  know." 

"  Do  you  think  Werner  is  a  spy?  "  asked  Charley. 

"Probably,  of  an  exalted  order.  As  I  look  back 
now,  he's  been  using  Papa  and  all  the  rest  of  the  silly 
Turnverein,  any  way  he  wants  to.  How  much  they 
know  we  never  shall  know.  My  heavens,  what  a  dirty 
place  the  world  is !  " 

No  one   replied   to   this  comment.     Roger  sighed 


340  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

deeply  and  a  pitying  glance  passed  between  the  two 
girls  as  he  dropped  his  head  dejectedly  on  his  hands. 

"  Well,  let's  postpone  more  talk  until  morning/' 
said  Dick.  "  Elsa,  going  to  help  me  put  the  menagerie 
to  bed  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Elsa  with  alacrity,  adding,  as  she 
followed  Dick  to  the  door,  "  Don't  you  think  Roger'd 
better  sleep  here,  to-night?  With  Gustav  in  the  living 
tent  — " 

Charley  nodded.  "  I'll  make  up  the  cot  on  the 
porch."  She  eyed  Roger's  drooping  head  with  tear- 
dimmed  eyes,  as  the  others  went  out. 

Roger  lifted  his  worn  face  and  gave  Charley  a  long 
look.  She  was  recovering  some  of  her  tone.  Her 
eyes  were  bright  and  though  the  deepened  sadness  of 
her  mouth  would  never  lessen,  the  despondency  that 
had  marked  her  face  when  in  repose  ever  since  Felicia's 
death  was  gone.  As  Roger  watched  her,  it  seemed  to 
him  that  if  Charley  as  well  as  Ernest  failed  him,  the 
blackness  of  the  pit  would  indeed  close  around  him. 
He  rose  suddenly  and  crossed  the  room  to  kneel  beside 
her.  He  clasped  her  hands  against  his  heart,  and  said 
slowly : 

"  Charley,  look  in  my  face  and  tell  me  that  you  real 
ize  I  am  a  changed  man!  That  you  need  never  fear 
my  temper  again !  " 

Charley  caught  her  lower  lip  which  would  tremble, 
between  her  teeth,  and  steady,  wise,  brown  eyes  gazed 
long  into  deep-set,  wearied,  blue  eyes. 

"What  happened,  Roger?"  Charley  asked,  at  last. 

"  I  fully  recognized  my  devil,  for  the  first  time,  and 
fought  him  to  a  finish.  I'm  going  to  have  many  a 
tough  struggle  but  you'll  never  see  again  nor  will  any 


THE  RIVER  RANGE  341 

one  else,  the  thing  little  Felicia  was  so  afraid  of.  You 
understand  and  believe  me,  don't  you  ?  " 

Charley  nodded,  not  trusting  her  quivering  lips  to 
words. 

Roger  dropped  her  hands  and  took  her  face  in  a 
tender  clasp. 

"  Charley,  it's  a  poor,  broken,  futile  thing  just  now, 
my  life,  but  so  help  me,  God,  it  will  not  always  be  so. 
And  whatever  it  is  or  will  be,  it  belongs  to  you.  Will 
you  take  it,  Charley  ?  " 

There  was  a  long  pause  during  which  Felicia's  old 
enemy,  the  alarm  clock,  ticked  loudly.  Then  Charley 
smiled  and  said  /uncertainly : 

"  While  I'm  taking  my  own  share  of  you,  I  think 
I'll  take  Felicia's  too.  Then  I'll  have  all  of  you !  " 

"  Charley !  Oh,  Charley !  My  dearest  love !  My 
dearest!"  Roger  jumped  up,  pulled  Charley  to  her 
feet  and  clasping  the  slender  body  in  his  arms  laid  his 
lips  hungrily  to  hers.  He  kissed  her  eyes,  her  hair. 
"  Charley !  Charley !  I'm  a  selfish  brute,  but  you'll 
never  know  what  you're  doing  for  me.  You  ought  to 
have  a  man  worth  ten  of  me  but  I'm  going  to  have 
you  just  the  same.  Now  I  can  bear  even  Ernest's 
failure.  Do  you  really  love  me,  my  darling?" 

"  Curiously  enough,  I  do!  "  replied  Charley  with  the 
old  whimsical  lift  of  her  eyebrows.  "  Oh,  you  dear 
old  single-track  thinking  machine,  you !  " 

Roger  held  her  off  and  looked  at  her  wonderingly. 
"  You  mean  —  Oh,  Charley,  I  have  been  a  fool  in 
every  possible  way,  haven't  I  ?  " 

Charley  laughed,  with  her  cheek  against  Roger's, 
her  arm  about  his  neck.  Roger  held  her  closer  still. 
"  Well,"  he  said  huskily,  "  I'm  through  with  one  kind 


342  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

of  foolishness!  Charley,  will  you  ride  into  Archer's 
Springs  to-morrow  and  marry  me  ?  " 

The  girl  laughed  outright.  "I  certainly  won't! 
Let  me  go,  Roger.  Here  come  Elsa  and  Dick." 

Elsa  entered  the  room,  her  head  on  one  side,  her 
eyes  bright  and  questioning. 

"Well,  Rog?  "  she  exclaimed  breathlessly. 

"Yes,  Elsa,"  he  replied.  "By  Jove,  I  can't  be 
lieve  it  myself  but  Charley  says  she'll  marry  me." 

"  Thank  the  Lord  for  that !  "  sighed  Elsa. 

"  You're  not  good  enough  for  her,  Roger,"  said 
Dick,  coming  across  the  room  with  right  hand  out 
stretched  but  a  grim  face.  "  But  when  I  think  about 
Elsa  taking  me  — " 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence  but  Roger  nodded  un- 
derstandingly  and  the  two  men,  regarding  each  other 
seriously  over  a  long  hand  clasp,  laid  at  that  moment 
the  foundation  of  a  close  friendship  that  was  to  last 
them  to  the  end  of  their  lives. 

"  Poor  old  Ernest !  "  Roger  broke  the  silence  with 
a  sigh. 

'  Try  not  to  think  about  him  to-night,  Roger,"  Char 
ley  laid  a  gentle  hand  on  his  arm.  "  You  are  so  fear 
fully  tired,  I'm  going  to  fix  the  porch  couch  and  you 
must  go  to  bed  at  once." 

Roger  was  glad  to  stretch  out  on  the  cot  and  close 
his  weary  eyes.  But  he  could  not  sleep.  The  thrilling 
joy  of  Charley's  welcome,  the  burning  soft  touch  of 
her  lips  on  his  and  with  this,  the  sick  sense  of  loss  in 
the  constantly  recurring  thought  of  Ernest  combined  to 
make  sleep  long  in  coming.  He  heard  Dick,  then  Elsa 
call  good  night.  He  heard  the  subdued  clatter  of  Char 
ley  in  the  kitchen  making  her  breakfast  preparations, 


THE  RIVER  RANGE  343 

and  after  a  few  minutes  the  sound  of  Felicia's  alarm 
clock  being  wound  for  the  night. 

"  Charley!  "  he  called  softly. 

In  a  moment  Charley's  lovely  head  was  outlined 
against  the  lamplight  as  she  paused  in  the  door. 

"  Haven't  you  been  asleep,  Roger  dear?" 

"  Charley,  how  could  Ernest  have  done  it  ?  I  can't 
sleep  for  thinking  about  it." 

Charley  came  over  to  his  cot  and  sitting  down  on  the 
edge  of  it,  lifted  Roger's  hot  hand  against  her  cheek. 
"  You  must  realize  that  he  thinks  he  loves  the  '  Vater- 
land  '  and  that  he  is  doing  the  best  thing  for  the  world 
in  placing  loyalty  to  Germany  first." 

"  Then  he  should  be  shot  as  a  traitor,"  said  Roger. 
"  I  can't  believe  that  he  thinks  so  crooked.  Why,  he's 
got  a  mind  that's  as  pellucid  as  that  spring  Peter  found 
in  Lost  Canyon." 

Charley  smoothed  his  hair  back  from  his  forehead. 
"  Poor  old  Roger !  You  may  have  been  selfish  toward 
your  friends,  but  you  certainly  loved  them.  Try  to  go 
to  sleep  now,  dearest.  You'll  need  a  clear  head  if 
you're  going  to  save  Ernest  and  the  Solar  Plant. 
Aren't  the  stars  beautiful?  I  never  lose  my  awe  of 
their  nearness  in  the  desert." 

"  They  were  wonderful  over  in  the  River  Canyon," 
said  Roger,  relaxing  with  a  long  breath  at  Charley's 
touch  on  his  forehead,  while  he  clung  closely  to  her 
other  hand.  "  Do  you  really  love  me,  Charley,  my 
sweetheart  ?  " 

Suddenly  the  girl  slipped  to  her  knees  beside  the  cot 
and  buried  her  face  against  his  on  the  pillows.  "  Oh, 
Roger !  Roger !  Just  as  much  and  more  than  Felicia 
did  and  for  nearly  as  long." 


344  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  And  I  you,"  replied  Roger,  brokenly,  "  only  I 
was  such  a  self-centered  fool  I  didn't  know  it.  Don't 
kneel  there,  Charley,  you're  tired  and  must  go  to  bed." 

"  Oh,  Roger!  Roger!  I've  wanted  you  so!  And 
the  years  have  been  so  hard!  Never  leave  me,  dear! 
Don't  make  me  go  now !  Let  me  watch  here  beside  you 
till  you  sleep,  just  as  you  did  for  me  that  night  Felicia 
died." 

"  I'll  never  leave  you,  you  darling !  Even  my  work 
shall  never  drive  me  from  you.  We'll  put  things 
through  together  from  now  on.  Oh,  Charley !  I  don't 
deserve  it !  " 

"  I  know  you  don't !  "  this  with  a  chuckle  that  was 
half  a  sob,  "  but  somehow  even  old  Peter  can't  bear 
to  be  separated  from  you." 

"  Bless  his  old  gray  head !  Charley,  let  me  tell  you 
about  Peter  and  the  river."  Roger  began  eagerly  but 
before  his  story  was  half  finished  his  sentences  were 
broken  and  finally  ended  abruptly.  Roger  was  fast 
asleep.  Charley,  with  a  soft  kiss  on  his  hair,  rose  from 
the  cramped  position  on  her  knees  and  went  into  the 
house.  In  a  short  time  the  adobe  was  in  darkness 
and  Peter,  with  a  wisp  of  alfalfa  on  which  he  chewed 
meditatively,  hanging  from  his  mouth,  leaned  his  gray 
head  on  the  corral  bars  and  eyed  the  stars  unblink- 
ingly. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE   BLACK    BOX 

T>  OGER  was  awakened  the  next  morning  by  the 
•"*  sound  of  Dick  uncrating  the  new  pump.  He  rose 
at  once  feeling  quite  himself.  He  had  his  belated 
breakfast  alone,  with  Charley  hovering  in  attendance. 

"  Ernest  and  Gustav  are  down  at  the  old  camp  as 
usual/'  she  reported.  "  What  are  you  going  to  do  to 
day,  Roger?" 

"  I  want  to  go  through  Von  Minden's  papers.  If 
I'd  done  a  thorough  job  on  that  in  the  beginning,  all 
the  trouble  might  have  been  obviated." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Charley.  "  It 
couldn't  have  been  foreseen  that  Ernest  would  get  in 
touch  with  Werner." 

"Will  you  help  me?"  asked  Roger.  "I  want  to 
get  through  before  Werner  comes." 

"  Are  you  feeling  fairly  calm  for  the  interview, 
dear?"  Charley  smoothed  Roger's  hair  back,  caress 
ingly. 

"  Calm !  "  Roger  suddenly  caught  the  girl  to  him  in 
a  passionate  embrace.  "  Calm !  I  don't  want  to  be 
calm  when  I  think  of  you  and  all  you  are  to  me.  Oh, 
my  darling,  my  darling !  " 

With  Dick  and  Elsa's  help,  the  Von  Minden  papers 
had  been  thoroughly  gone  over  by  mid-afternoon. 

345 


346  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

It  was  well  on  toward  four  o'clock  before  Ernest 
appeared  with  his  unwelcome  guest.  Dick  had  de 
scried  a  dust-cloud  on  the  Archer's  Springs  trail  about 
three  o'clock  and  they  all  had  seen  a  buckboard  with 
two  figures  in  it  drive  into  the  Sun  Camp. 

"  Werner  must  have  come,"  said  Roger,  only  half 
succeeding  in  keeping  his  voice  casual. 

Dick  nodded.  "  Hackett  was  telling  me  that  he'd 
finally  made  up  his  mind  to  get  a  tin  Lizzy.  These  old- 
time  cowboys  do  certainly  hate  to  give  up  their  horses, 
don't  they  ?  But  when  the  Chinaman  said  that  he  was 
going  to  buy  a  jitney  for  the  miners,  poor  Hackett  had 
to  give  in.  Of  course,  he'll  still  have  to  use  his  horses 
and  the  pack-train  for  mountain  work." 

Roger  grunted  absentmindedly  and  stored  Von  Min- 
den's  box  in  the  kitchen,  as  Hackett  drove  Werner  and 
Ernest  up  to  the  corral. 

Herr  Werner,  badly  sunburned  and  dusty,  seemed 
unfeignedly  glad  to  have  reached  the  ranch.  He 
greeted  Elsa  and  Charley  effusively,  shook  hands  with 
Dick  and  showed  Roger  a  mixture  of  cordiality  and 
deference  in  manner  that  was  irreproachable. 

Left  alone  in  the  living  room  with  Roger  and  Ernest, 
he  came  to  the  point  at  once: 

"  Wolf  tells  me,  Mr.  Moore,  that  you  have  been 
much  angered  at  his  selling  the  solar  device  to  me." 

"  I  certainly  have  been  and  I  haven't  the  least  idea 
of  letting  the  thing  go  through,"  replied  Roger.  "  A 
considerable  part  of  the  money  you  advanced  has  been 
spent  but  I  shall  spend  no  more  of  it  and  my  friend 
Preble  can  arrange  a  loan  that  will  cover  what  has  been 
spent." 

"  You  know,  of  course,"  Werner  took  an  audible  sip 


THE  BLACK  BOX  347 

of  lemonade,  "  that  a  bargain  is  a  bargain  and  that  the 
contract  Wolf  signed  is  binding." 

"  Ordinarily,  yes,"'  said  Roger,  "  but  I  have  an  idea 
that  before  I'm  through  with  you,  you'll  be  glad  to  let 

go." 

"For  heaven's  sake,  Roger!"  cried  Ernest  irri 
tably,  throwing  his  cigarette  in  the  fireplace,  and  tak 
ing  a  quick  turn  up  and  down  the  room,  "  don't  start 


a  row." 


"If  you  mean  not  to  lose  my  temper,  I  can  promise 
that,"  returned  Roger,  "  but  Germany  can  never  have 
my  solar  apparatus." 

"  How're  you  going  to  help  yourself?"  asked  Er 
nest,  with  an  ugly  edge  to  his  voice. 

"  There  are  ways !  Mr.  Werner,  Von  Minden  was  a 
part  of  Germany's  great  system,  was  he  not,  for  ex 
ploiting  America?  He  was  one  of  your  agents  and  his 
job  was  to  outline  the  desert  empire  Germany  plans  to 
take  over.  But  being  German,  like  Ernest's  father 
who  never  will  take  the  human  element  into  considera 
tion,  you  didn't  count  on  the  desert's  sending  your  poor 
tool  crazy,  so  he  blabbed.  Gustav  is  your  watch-dog 
and  spy,  keeping  you  in  touch  at  present  with  all  my 
doings.  Your  own  activities,  outside  of  these  minor 
ones,  I  imagine,  center  round  the  banking  and  educa 
tional  interests  of  America.  You've  seen  to  it  that  our 
high  schools  and  universities  produce  students  that  ad 
mire  Germany.  I  must  say  that  you  have  been  highly 
successful  up  to  now.  But  the  superman  stuff  is  a  bit 
thick,  Mr.  Werner.  It  makes  our  American  gorge  rise 
in  our  throats." 

Roger  fingered  his  cold  pipe,  swallowed  several 
times,  looked  out  the  open  door  where  he  could  see 


348  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Charley  at  the  bars,  rubbing  Peter's  head,  then  went 
on: 

"  What  you've  done  to  Ernest  is  obvious.  He's  the 
sweetest  tempered,  most  easily  influenced  chap  in  the 
world.  You  caught  him  in  New  York  after  he'd  failed 
with  the  Smithsonian  —  probably  after  some  spy  in 
the  Smithsonian  had  put  you  wise,  and  fed  him  up 
with  the  superman  idea  and  he,  poor  mut,  fell  for  it." 

"  Roger !  "  shouted  Ernest.  "  You  can't  talk  about 
me  as  if  I  were  feeble-minded." 

"  But  hang  it,  Ern,  you  have  been !  "  exclaimed 
Roger.  Then,  with  a  little  break  in  his  voice,  "  I  tell 
you,  you've  been  thinking  and  speaking  treason  and  I 
won't  have  it !  I  won't  have  it !  " 

"Come!  Come!  Mr.  Moore!"  said  Werner; 
"  supposing  what  you've  surmised  should  turn  out  to 
be  true.  Might  is  right  in  this  world." 

"  You  can't  draw  me  into  a  discussion  of  ethics, 
Mr.  Werner.  Ernest  and  I'll  have  that  out  afterward. 
I'm  just  telling  you  this,  that  Germany  can't  have  my 
solar  device  and  it  can't  have  Ernest.  There's  enough 
evidence  in  that  tin  dispatch  box  of  Von  Minden's,  Mr. 
Werner,  almost  to  persuade  Congress  to  declare  war  on 
your  super-fatherland.  There's  enough  evidence  in 
that  box  to  make  headlines  in  every  American  paper  for 
a  month.  What  it  would  do  to  pro-German  sentiment 
in  this  country  is  a  caution." 

Werner's  sunburned  face  went  purple.  "  Gott  im 
Himmel !  "  he  roared.  "  Did  the  fool  keep  my  let 
ters?" 

"  No,  but  he  copied  them  into  his  journal,  with  all 
sorts  of  other  data  of  vital  interest  to  the  American 
public.  We  had  a  very  pleasant  morning  reading  his 


THE  BLACK  BOX  349 

journal.  My  great  regret  is  that  I've  so  neglected  that 
document  box." 

With  surprising  quickness  for  a  stout  man,  Werner 
pulled  a  revolver  from  his  hip  pocket,  and  pointed  it 
at  Roger. 

"  I  want  that  box,  Moore !  "  he  roared. 

Quick  as  a  cat,  Ernest  crossed  the  room,  and  with  a 
twist  of  Werner's  wrist  disarmed  him. 

"None  of  that!  "he  said. 

"  Keep  your  shirt  on,  Mr.  Werner !  "  said  Roger. 
"  You're  going  to  need  it,  take  my  word  for  that !  " 

Werner  bit  his  nails  for  a  moment.  "  Very  well, 
sir.  Give  me  back  the  box  and  I'll  turn  back  the  con 
tract." 

"  Not  on  your  life !  You  turn  back  the  contract  and 
I'll  give  you  a  week  to  get  out  of  the  country  before  I 
turn  the  box  over  to  the  Department  of  Justice.  Just 
one  week,  mind  you,  no  more !  " 

"  Look  here,  Rog,  you  can't  do  that !  It  would  be 
a  dirty  trick !  Why,  it's  blackmail !  "  Ernest  dropped 
the  revolver  on  the  table  with  a  thud. 

"  Good  God,  Ernest !  Blackmail !  Toward  a  man 
who  is  a  spy  —  a  man  who  plots  against  the  physical 
and  moral  fiber  of  your  country!  Blackmail!  Come 
out  of  your  trance.  There  are  some  things  that  can't 
be  done,  Ern!  Life's  full  of  forbidden  trails.  My 
temper  was  one  of  them  and  poor  old  Dick's  drinking 
was  another.  And  the  one  most  impossible  of  all  for 
a  real  man  to  take  is  the  one  you're  headed  toward  — 
a  real  man  can't  be  renegade  to  his  country." 

Werner,  chewing  nervously  at  his  thumb  knuckle, 
eyed  Roger  blackly.  Then  he  turned  abruptly  to  Er 
nest. 


350  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  And  you !  "  he  roared.  "  A  fine  German  you  are, 
you  milk  sop!  A  beautiful  muddle  you've  made  of 
this.  Von  Minden's  letters  here  for  months  and  what 
use  have  they  come  to?  There'd  have  been  an  Iron 
Cross  in  this  for  you,  had  you  shown  sense." 

Ernest  gave  a  sudden  short  laugh.  "  An  Iron  Cross 
would  have  been  a  wonderful  reward  for  breaking  up  a 
man's  life  friendship.  An  Iron  Cross!  My  wortl! 
Where's  your  sense  of  humor,  Werner?  " 

"  Come,  Werner,  the  contract !  "  urged  Roger. 

"  Damn  you !  "  shrieked  the  German,  jerking  a  heavy 
envelope  from  his  inner  pocket  and  throwing  it  in  Rog 
er's  face.  Roger  caught  it  and  after  examining  the 
contents,  put  it  into  his  own  pocket  with  a  nod. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Werner,"  he  said,  "  if  you'll  just  annex 
Gustav,  and  plan  to  leave  at  sun  down,  Hackett  will 
drive  you  in  with  Treble's  team.  I  hate  to  lose  Gus 
tav.  He  was  born  to  be  a  white  man,  poor  devil." 

Werner  cleared  his  throat  and  spoke  sneeringly: 
"  And  how  do  I  know  you'll  live  up  to  your  bargain, 
Moore?" 

"  Oh,  I'm  an  American !  I  promise  to  hold  the  pa 
pers  a  week  and  a  promise  isn't  a  scrap  of  paper  in 
America.  After  the  week's  up,  you  won't  enjoy  the 
climate,  I  can  assure  you  of  that.  I'll  send  you  a 
check  for  the  amount  I've  spent,  next  week,  with  the 
amount  still  untouched." 

"  Roger !  "  shouted  Ernest,  "  Don't  be  a  fool !  It's 
the  chance  of  your  life  you're  throwing  down!  " 

"  Come  with  me,  Wolf,"  cried  Werner.  "  Come 
with  me!  I'll  give  you  opportunities  that  you  never 
dreamed  of.  You  don't  belong  to  this  nation  of  thick- 


THE  BLACK  BOX  351 

headed  numb-skulls.  You're  a  German.  You  know 
all  that  Moore  knows  about  using  solar  heat.  Come 
and  help  the  Vaterland.  Let  this  man  rot.  Bah !  He 
belongs  to  a  nation  of  swine!  " 

There  was  silence  in  the  adobe  living  room.  Rog 
er's  face  turned  a  slow  purple  and  sweat  stood  on  his 
forehead.  But  by  a  supreme  effort  he  kept  his 
clenched  fists  in  his  pockets  and  his  eyes  riveted  on 
Ernest's. 

"  Choose,  Ernest,"  he  said,  suddenly. 

Ernest  seemed  scarcely  to  hear  him.  The  sullenness 
that  his  face  had  worn  constantly  for  many  days 
changed  slowly  to  a  look  of  anger  that  distorted  his 
features  until  his  expression  was  demoniacal. 

He  clutched  the  revolver  and  leaned  across  the  table 
with  a  hoarse  whisper : 

"  By  God,  if  you  insult  America  again,  I'll  shoot 
you !  It's  one  thing  to  admire  Germany.  It's  another 
to  sling  mud  at  America." 

"What,  you  too,  you  hybrid!"  shrieked  Werner. 
"  You  play  Germany  into  the  hands  of  this  swine;  this 
monkey-headed  inventor ;  this  letter  thief,  this  - 

With  an  inarticulate  roar,  Ernest  pulled  the  trigger 
just  as  Roger  knocked  the  revolver  upward.  The  bul 
let  lodged  in  the  ceiling.  But  Werner  had  had  enough. 
While  Roger  clung  to  the  roaring  Ernest,  he  rushed 
down  the  trail  to  the  corral,  where  Hackett  began  at 
once  to  hitch  Dick's  team  to  the  buckboard. 

"Let  go  of  me,  Roger!  Let  me  get  at  him!" 
howled  Ernest. 

Dick  came  running  up  the  trail.  "  It's  all  right, 
Dick,  don't  bother !  "  called  Roger.  "  Leave  us  alone 


352  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

a  little  while  longer.  What's  the  matter,  Ernest  ?  Be 
quiet,  man !  Let's  talk  like  men  and  not  row  like  a 
couple  of  dogs." 

Roger  eased  Ernest  into  a  chair  and  Ernest  ceased 
to  struggle,  but  stared  at  Roger  gloomily. 

11  Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?  "  he  asked 
sullenly. 

"  I'm  going  to  make  you  see  the  error  of  your  ways." 
Roger  smiled  grimly.  "  Use  your  common  sense, 
Ernest.  What  could  Germany  give  you,  except 
money?  All  your  life  ties  are  here." 

"  Wonderful  ties!  "  sneered  Ernest.  "  Charley  has 
turned  me  down,  my  father  has  turned  me  out  and 
you've  beaten  me  up." 

Roger  concealed  a  grin.  "  Poor  old  chap ! "  he 
murmured.  "  So  a  woman's  at  the  bottom  of  it  all, 
eh?" 

"  I  don't  know  why  her  refusing  me  affected  me  so," 
said  Ernest,  as  if  to  himself.  "  But  I  felt  as  if  nothing 
mattered.  And  then  to  have  the  Sun  Plant  a  failure 
and  my  father's  attitude!  O  pshaw,  what's  the  use? 
Let  me  alone,  Roger.  I'm  going  to  pack  up  and  get 
out  of  here." 

"  Ernest,"  said  Roger,  "  if  you  don't  stay  by  while 
we  straighten  this  out,  I'll  never  get  over  it  and  no 
more  will  you.  We've  loved  each  other  too  long,  Ern. 
Our  lives  have  become  interwoven.  If  we  break  now 
we'll  go  lame  all  our  days.  You  know  that,  don't  you, 
old  man?  You  folks  have  all  done  so  much  for  me. 
I've  got  to  keep  your  friendship  in  order  to  pay  up 
some  of  my  indebtedness,  eh,  Ernie?  " 

Ernest  drew  a  long  breath  and  suddenly  dropped 
his  head  into  his  hands  and  burst  into  tears. 


THE  BLACK  BOX  353 

"  And  now  I'm  crying!  "  he  said.  "  Now  I'm  cry 
ing!  There's  no  limit  to  my  weakness." 

Roger,  still  with  a  little  twisted  grin,  lighted  a  ciga 
rette.  "A  peach  of  a  superman  you  are,  eh,  Ern?" 

Ernest  did  not  answer  and  Roger  walked  up  and 
down  the  room,  waiting.  Finally  Ernest  lifted  his 
flushed  face  and  took  the  cigarette  which  Roger  offered 
him,  and  began  to  speak,  rapidly : 

"  I  was  desperate,  after  the  Smithsonian  turned  me 
down.  Seems  that  they  didn't  like  the  look  of  things 
Austin  did  and  that's  why  they  dropped  you.  Werner 
looked  me  up.  I  found  out  later  that  Gustav  had  kept 
him  informed,  and  that  Werner  had  got  Austin  just  as 
they  got  me.  I  honestly  thought  I  was  doing  a  great 
thing  for  you  and  the  world,  Rog.  Werner  showed 
me  a  list  of  names  of  people  in  this  country  that're 
helping  Germany  that  would  make  your  eyes  start. 
And  he  was  always  praising  America." 

"  Ernest,  has  Werner  any  drawings  of  the  plant?  " 
asked  Roger. 

"  No,  he  hasn't." 

"  Are  you  sure?  " 

"  Yes,  because  that's  the  first  thing  he  asked  me  for, 
this  afternoon.  All  our  stuff  that  Austin  had,  his 
widow  burned  with  his  other  papers.  She  said  he  told 
her  to  if  anything  happened  to  him.  And  you  know 
I  brought  yours  back,  as  I  promised.  What  Gustav 
may  have  sent  him  I  don't  know,  but  evidently  not 
satisfactory  drawings  or  he  wouldn't  have  been  so  keen 
to  get  more !  " 

"I. wonder  about  the  new  engine,"  mused  Roger. 
"  Well,  I  have  little  fear  of  that.  Gustav  isn't  enough 
of  an  engineer  to  guess  what  he  doesn't  see.  He 


354  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

couldn't  make  a  drawing  of  the  idea  of  that  engine  to 
save  his  neck.  And  Dean  Erskine's  got  the  only  plan 
I  ever  finished  of  it." 

"  I'm  sure  you're  safe  on  that,"  insisted  Ernest. 

"  I  think  I  am,"  agreed  Roger,  "  and  now,  Ernest,  I 
want  to  know  how  I  can  square  up  with  you  for  my 
attack  on  you  the  other  night." 

Ernest  looked  up  at  Roger  and  the  sullen  look  which 
even  his  tears  had  not  washed  out  lifted  a  little. 

"  You  mean  —  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  mean  that  I  had  no  business  attacking  you  as  I 
did.  It  was  a  rotten  trick  and  I'm  ashamed  and  sorry. 
-My  temper  has  been  a  brutal  thing  and  you've  always 
put  up  with  it.  If  we  can  clear  this  thing  up,  I'm  go 
ing  to  do  better  by  you,  Ern." 

There  was  a  curious  look  in  Ernest's  beautiful  eyes. 
"  Do  you  know,  I  hoped  for  twenty  years  you'd  get 
to  see  yourself  in  that  light,"  he  spoke  thoughtfully. 
"  What  you've  just  said  does  away  with  any  resentment 
I  may  have  had  about  your  temper,  Roger.  As  for  the 
other  thing  — "  He  paused. 

"  Ern,  how  could  you  do  it  ?  "  asked  Roger  huskily. 

"  Before  heaven,  Roger,  I  did  it  solely  for  love  of 
you.  And  you  know  I  was  brought  up  on  admiration 
of  Germany.  I  honestly  thought  that  we  could  make 
you  see  it  as  I  do.  I've  been  seeing  for  days  what  a 
skunk  trick  it  must  have  looked  to  you,  but  this  ob 
stinate  streak  in  me  wouldn't  let  me  give  up  until 
Werner  slanged  America.  Rog,  I'll  make  it  up  to  you 
somehow  so  you'll  trust  me  again !  See  if  I  don't!  " 

"  I'll  trust  you  fast  enough,  old  man,  if  you'll  assure 
me  that  you're  through  with  this  superman  stuff.  Are 
you  an  American  or  a  German,  Ern?  " 


THE  BLACK  BOX  355 

With  a  smile  of  extraordinary  sweetness,  Ernest  put 
a  hand  on  Roger's  shoulder  and  said  in  a  voice  of  utter 
sincerity,  "  I'm  whatever  you  are,  Roger.  Thy  coun 
try  shall  be  my  country  and  thy  God,  my  God.  After 
all,  what  is  a  man's  country  but  the  place  of  his  loves 
and  his  friendships?  And  America  has  all  of  mine, 
Roger,  all  of  mine." 

The  two  men  stood  in  silence  after  this  until  Roger 
said,  brokenly,  "  Thank  you,  Ernest,  you've  made  a 
new  man  of  me." 

"  And  now,"  said  Ernest,  briskly,  "  being  consider 
ably  worse  in  debt  than  ever,  the  question  before  the 
house  is  whom  do  we  do  next  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know !  I  swear  I  don't,"  Roger  sighed,  as 
he  took  one  of  Ernest's  cigarettes. 

Ernest  gave  a  scornful  laugh.  "  He  doesn't  know! 
the  poor  little  woolly  lamb !  He  doesn't  know !  with  a 
plant  such  as  is  now  established  in  the  Prebles'  back 
yard!  Why,  man,  I  could  sell  that  to  an  Egyptian 
mummy." 

Roger  laughed  and  at  the  sound  Dick  called  in 
through  the  open  door, 

"  For  the  love  of  heaven,  put  us  out  of  our  misery ! 
What's  happened?  We've  been  sweating  blood!" 

Both  men  hurried  out  to  the  porch.  Seated  in  a 
solemn  row  on  the  steps  were  Charley,  Dick  and 
Elsa. 

Ernest  looked  at  Roger  pleadingly.  "  You  tell 
them,  Rog.  I  want  to  attend  to  something  in  the 
tent." 

Roger  sat  down  beside  Charley  and  told  the  story. 
When  it  was  finished,  Dick  said,  "  Are  you  sure  he's 
not  German,  Roger  ?  " 


356  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Certainly  he's  not  any  longer !  "  exclaimed  Elsa. 
"  The  strongest  thing  in  Ernest's  life  is  his  love  for 
Roger.  He'll  never  give  any  woman  what  he's  given 
Roger.  That  love  has  saved  Ernest  and  will  keep  him 
safe.  Oh,  I'm  so  thankful!  So  thankful!" 

"  Don't  cry,  Elsa !  I've  had  all  the  emotion  I  can 
stand  in  one  day,"  cried  Roger. 

"  I  wouldn't  wraste  a  tear  on  either  of  yon,"  returned 
Elsa,  stoutly  as  she  wiped  her  eyes.  "  Come  along, 
Dicky  belovedest.  You're  the  only  one  who  treats  me 
with  respect.  I'm  going  to  cook  you  the  most  perfect 
biscuits  ever  invented  for  supper." 

Ernest  came  into  supper  that  night  and  after  the  first 
moment  of  embarrassment,  the  meal  resolved  itself 
into  a  frank  discussion  of  ways  and  means,  quite  as 
if  nothing  had  happened.  Roger  flatly  refused  to  take 
Dick's  possible  loan. 

"  You  keep  that  for  a  rainy  day  fall  back,"  he  said. 
"  You  and  Elsa  aren't  going  to  have  smooth  sledding 
for  a  long  time  yet." 

"How  about  you  and  Charley?"  returned  Dick. 
"  Don't  forget  you've  got  a  woman  to  provide  for 
now!" 

"  Thanks  for  reminding  me,"  smiled  Roger. 
tl  She's  an  extravagant  minx  too  and  accustomed  to 
luxury." 

"  Well,  something  will  turn  up,  see  if  it  doesn't," 
said  Ernest.  "  In  the  meantime,  there's  considerable 
work  to  be  done  before  Roger  can  claim  that  he's  irri 
gating  twenty-five  acres  of  alfalfa.  I'll  guarantee  that 
something  will  turn  up  before  he's  able  to  do  that." 

"  Looks  to  me  as  if  I  were  going  to  cash  in  pretty 


THE  BLACK  BOX  357 

heavily  on  this  business/'  said  Dick.     "  Well,  I'll  sup 
ply  you  alfalfa  for  the  rest  of  your  lives." 

"  Thank    you    for    nothing,"     returned    Charley, 
sweetly. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

PAPA   WOLF 

/~\CTOBER  came  in  with  a  decided  diminution  of 
^^  heat  and  with  an  accented  brilliancy  in  sky  and 
sand.  The  work  of  getting  the  remainder  of  the 
twenty-five  acres  into  alfalfa  went  on  rapidly.  And  in 
spite  of  the  money  uncertainty,  there  was  the  lift  of 
hopefulness  and  happiness  in  the  atmosphere  of  the 
ranch. 

The  alfalfa  grew  amazingly.  One  morning  Elsa 
electrified  the  ranch  by  announcing  that  the  second  field 
now  in  blossom  was  full  of  wild  bees.  No  one  be 
lieved  her.  Every  one  decarqped  at  once  to  the  field. 
It  was  quite  true.  Far  and  wide  swept  the  burning 
barrens  of  the  desert.  But  close  about  corral  and 
pumping  plant  crowded  the  unbelievable  verdure  of 
alfalfa  with  the  fringed  green  lines  of  cotton-woods  on 
its  borders  silhouetted  against  the  sullen  yellow  sand. 
And  wild  bees,  drunk  with  rapturous  surprise,  buzzed 
thick  in  the  heavy  blossoms.  Whence  they  came  no 
one  could  guess.  Dick  was  willing  to  wager  that  there 
was  nothing  else  within  a  hundred  miles  on  which  a  bee 
might  feed. 

It  was  early  morning.  Roger  and  Charley  allowed 
the  others  to  drift  back  to  their  various  occupations 
while  they  remained  to  watch  the  field.  Seated  side 
by  side  on  a  rock  heap,  Roger's  arm  around  Charley's 
shoulders,  they  listened  to  the  humming  of  the  bees. 

.1*8 


PAPA  WOLF  359 

"If  you  weren't  here,  it  would  make  me  homesick," 
said  Roger.  "  I  can  shut  my  eyes  and  see  the  old 
Preble  farm  and  my  mother  in  her  phlox  bed,  calling 
to  me  to  drive  the  bees  away.  I  wonder  if  a  fellow 
ever  gets  over  his  heartache  for  his  mother." 

"  Not  the  right  kind  of  a  fellow  for  the  right  kind 
of  a  mother,"  replied  Charley,  lifting  Roger's  hand 
against  her  cheek.  "  The  price  we  pay  for  any  kind  of 
love  is  pain." 

"  I  hope  when  yours  and  my  time  comes  to  go  we 
can  go  together,"  said  Roger,  "  and  that  we  won't  have 
to  start  until  our  work  is  done.  Queer  how  life's  val 
ues  shift.  When  I  came,  down  here,  the  thing  I 
wanted  most  in  life  was  to  make  a  success  of  heat  en 
gineering.  I  thought  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  reach 
an  equal  degree  of  desire  about  anything  else.  And 
now,  while  I  want  just  as  much  as  ever  to  go  on  with 
my  profession,  successfully,  I  want  a  thousand  times 
more  to  be  your  husband  and  to  be  the  right  kind  of  a 
husband.  I  never  have  pipe-dreamed  much  about  mar 
riage,  though  I've  done  my  share  of  flirting  in  my  day. 
But  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  realize  that  Bobby 
Burns  knew  what  human  life  is  in  its  innermost  essence 
when  he  said : 

'  To  make  a  happy  fireside  clime  for  wean  and  wife, 
That's  the  true  purpose  and  sublime,  of  human  life!" 

Charley  did  not  speak  but  she  turned  and  looked  into 
Roger's  blue  eyes  with  her  own  bespeaking  a  depth  of 
feeling  that  was  beyond  words.  Roger,  looking  at  the 
splendid  brow  above  the  brown  eyes,  kissed  it  rever 
ently  and  then  gazing  at  the  beautiful  curving  mouth, 
he  crushed  his  lips  to  Charley's.  Then  again  they  sat 
watching  the  bees  in  the  alfalfa. 


360  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

Charley  noted  before  Roger  the  sound  of  hoof  beats 
and  looking  round,  beheld  Hackett's  two  seated  buck- 
board  crawling  slowly  toward  them. 

"  Who  on  earth  now !  "  exclaimed  Roger.  "  It  can't 
be  —  yes,  by  Jove  it  is  Dean  Erskine  —  and  —  and 
Mamma  and  Papa  Wolf !  Oh,  Elsa  and  Dick  are  go 
ing  to  have  real  trouble  now !  " 

They  hurried  round  to  the  corral,  and  shouted  to 
the  others  so  that  the  whole  ranch  was  present  to  wel 
come  the  travelers.  Ernest  was  first,  lifting  his 
mother  bodily  to  the  ground  and  kissing  her  a  dozen 
times  before  Elsa  had  a  chance. 

"  Guess  I  can  pull  off  a  surprise  party  when  I  try !  " 
he  shouted.  "  Here,  Papa,  this  is  Charley.  Don't 
you  remember  the  little  roly-poly  who  used  to  play  in 
the  swimming  pool  ?  And  Dick  —  who  tried  to  boss 
us." 

"  Come  up  to  the  house !  I  know  you're  half  dead," 
said  Charley,  leading  the  way  as  she  spoke. 

".I  don't  want  to  go  into  any  house  till  I've  seen  the 
Plant,"  exclaimed  Dean  Erskine,  wiping  the  sand  from 
his  face. 

"  Not  a  Plant  for  me,  but  coffee  and  some  shade  and 
a  little  breeze,  maybe,"  cried  Papa  Wolf. 

"  Better  have  some  breakfast  first,  Dean,"  suggested 
Roger.  "  There's  a  long  story  goes  with  seeing  the 
plant." 

"  There's  a  long  story  goes  with  a  number  of  things 
here  I  would  suspect,"  grunted  Papa  Wolf,  mounting 
the  steps  to  the  porch. 

"  Now,  Papa,  don't  try  to  talk  until  you've  eaten," 
called  Mamma  anxiously,  from  Ernest's  arm.  "  Oh, 
but  children,  this  is  very  pleasant,"  as  the  party  entered 


PAPA  WOLF  361 

the  living  room.  "  How  do  you  keep  it  so  cool  and 
how  have  you  endured  this  dreadful  heat?  " 

"  Heat!  "  laughed  Elsa,  "  why,  Mamma,  this  is  our 
cool  fall  weather  we're  having  now.  You  should  have 
been  here  in  the  good  old  summer  time." 

"  God  forbid,  if  it  was  warmer  than  this  yet.  Papa, 
take  off  your  coat,  and  you  too,  Dean."  Mamma  lifted 
her  dusty  little  black  hat  from  a  very  flushed  forehead. 
"  These  boys  look  cool  in  their  flannel  shirts  and  you 
so  hot  in  your  coats.  And  see  what  a  nice  fine  place 
and  a  nice  clock  and  a  — " 

"  Hold,  Mamma !  Hold !  You  needn't  talk  every 
minute,"  interrupted  Papa  Wolf.  "  I  promised  to  say 
nothing  until  we  all  have  eaten.  So  now,  enjoy  your 
breakfast" 

But  Papa  and  probably  the  Dean  were  the  only  per 
sons  who  really  enjoyed  the  meal.  Elsa  was  plainly 
rattled  and  Dick  whose  worn  face  recently  had  looked 
much  less  haggard  had  settled  again  into  lines  of  suf 
fering.  Except  in  looking  after  the  guests'  comfort, 
he  had  nothing  to  say.  Charley  and  Roger  were  ap 
prehensive  as  to  the  outcome  of  what  was  plainly  to 
be  a  family  row.  Ernest,  who  talked  a  great  deal, 
seemed  excited  and  uneasy. 

When  the  coffee  pot  had  been  emptied  and  pipes  and 
cigars  lighted,  Dean  Erskine  rose.  He  was  small  and 
thin  and  his  Van  Dyke  beard  was  nearly  white  but 
he  still  gave  the  impression  of  tremendous  nervous 
energy. 

"  Now,  I'm  ready  for  the  Plant,  Roger,"  he  said 
energetically. 

"  No !  No !  The  Plant  can  wait !  "  protested  Papa. 
"  You  know  all  about  why  we  have  come,  Dean,  and  I 


362  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

want  you  to  stay  and  lend  your  good  sense  to  the  inter 
view." 

"  But  my  dear  Wolf,  it  will  be  very  unpleasant  for 
me/'  exclaimed  the  Dean. 

"  And  for  me !  "  added  Roger. 

"  For  you,  Roger !  Why  you're  the  cause  of  all  our 
troubles  and  the  Dean  has  backed  you  in  all!  Come 
now,  don't  be  a  coward.  See  it  through !  I  must  take 
my  two  children  back  with  me.  That  is  settled." 

"  Is  that  what  brought  you  down  here,  Papa?  "  in 
quired  Elsa. 

"  Ernest's  letter  brought  me  down  here.  It's  the 
only  letter  he  has  written  me  since  he  left  my  roof. 
But  it  was  most  important." 

"  You  see,  it  was  this  way,"  Ernest  cleared  his 
throat,  nervously,  but  his  blue  eyes  were  steady. 
"  You  told  me  not  to  communicate  with  you,  but  I've 
written  regularly  to  Mother.  So,  of  course,  it 
amounted  to  the  same  thing.  Naturally,  I've  tried  not 
to  write  you  about  our  worries.  But  finally,  I  made 
up  my  mind,  Papa,  that  you  needed  to  learn  one  or  two 
things  that  I  had  learned  down  here.  I  knew  there 
was  no  use  in  my  asking  you  to  come,  so  I  merely  wrote 
you  of  Elsa's  engagement." 

Ernest  turned  to  his  sister  and  Dick,  who  sat  side 
by  side  on  the  living-room  cot. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  apologize  to  you  two.  Mamma 
and  Papa  had  to  know  sometime  or  other.  And  I 
wanted  Papa  down  here." 

"  You  should  have  let  me  write,  Ernest.  I  might 
have  given  myself  a  fair  show,  I  think."  Dick's  voice 
was  bitter. 

"  I  did  you  no  harm  in  the  long  run,  Dick,  old  man," 


PAPA  WOLF  363 

said   Ernest,    eagerly.     "Just   bear   with   me    for   a 
while." 

"  Ernie,  you  always  were  an  old  butter-in,"  cried 
Elsa  angrily.  "  As  if  I  weren't  perfectly  capable  of 
managing  my  own  affairs.  Now  you've  ruined  every 
thing.  Papa,  I  am  going  to  marry  Dick.  Mamma, 
you  will  love  him." 

"  Wait,  Elsa,  wait,"  exclaimed  Ernest. 

But  Papa  could  not  wait.  "  Marry  a  Preble !  "  he 
roared.  "  Marry  a  drunkard,  the  son  of  a  drunkard ! 
Oh,  don't  try  to  hush  me,  Mamma !  You  know  you're 
just  as  anxious  about  the  matter  as  I  am.  I  had  the 
Dean  look  Dick  Preble  up.  His  record  in  college  was 
that  of  a  drunken  rounder.  His  father  drank  the  old 
farm  up,  you  remember  that,  Roger." 

"  I  remember  folks  said  so,  but  all  I  know  and  all 
I  want  to  know  about  Dick  is  what  he  is  now.  He's  a 
new  man  and  a  mighty  fine  one." 

"  Impossible !     His  father  — " 

Dick  jumped  to  his  feet,  but  Charley  spoke  first. 
"  Leave  our  father  absolutely  out  of  this,  Mr.  Wolf, 
if  you  please.  He's  not  here  to  defend  himself.  Dick 
is." 

"  Impossible !  "  roared  Papa  Wolf. 

Charley  crossed  the  room  swiftly  and  standing  in 
all  the  dignity  of  her  good  height  and  her  quiet  beauty, 
she  looked  down  on  Papa  Wolf. 

"  I  am  telling  you,"  she  did  not  raise  her  voice,  "  not 
to  include  my  father  or  my  mother  in  this  conversation. 
My  brother  and  I  stand  on  our  own  reputations  and 
no  one  else's." 

Papa  Wolf  swallowed  two  or  three  times.  "  But 
inheritance,"  he  said  feebly. 


364  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Nobody  inherits  the  drink  habit,"  returned  Char 
ley,  disdainfully.  "  You  can  inherit  a  weak  will  but 
not  a  habit.  Dick  drank  because  he  thought  he  was 
going  to  die  and  he  went  the  pace,  thinking  like  other 
fool  men  that  he  was  living  life  to  the  full,  in  that 
way.  By  the  time  he  had  been  cured  of  his  illness, 
he  had  the  drink  appetite.  But  he's  cured  of  that 
now." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  asked  Papa  Wolf,  bellig 
erently. 

"  Because  I  know,"  replied  Charley,  shortly,  return 
ing  to  her  chair,  while  Dick  and  Elsa  stared  at  her,  as 
tonishment  and  gratitude  both  struggling  in  their  faces. 

"Well,  do  I  want  my  daughter  to  marry  a  man 
who's  been  a  bum,  eh?  Do  you  think  I,  Karl 
Wolf—" 

"  Hold  on,  Mr.  Wolf,"  interrupted  Dick.  "  I  never 
was  a  bum.  Drink  was  my  failing.  I've  always,  with 
Charley's  help,  paid  my  own  way.  I  have  a  real  busi 
ness  down  here  now.  Elsa  loves  the  desert  life  and 
she  loves  me.  I  can  take  care  of  her  and  make  her 
happy,  I  know." 

"  You  know,  huh !  Yet  you  remember  Elsa's  home. 
All  its  luxury?" 

"  Yes,  I  remember  Elsa's  home  and  I  remember 
that  Elsa  and  her  mother  were  high  class,  unpaid  serv 
ants  in  that  home." 

Papa  Wolf  jumped  to  his  feet.  Ernest  laid  a  hand 
on  his  arm. 

"  Wait  now,  Papa.  You've  got  the  top  layer  off 
your  chest.  Now  I'm  going  to  tell  you  the  inside  story 
of  what  has  happened  in  this  desert  in  the  seven  or 


PAPA  WOLF  365 

eight  months.  Light  your  pipe,  Papa.  It's  going  to 
be  a  long  story." 

"  Pipe !     Pipe !     I  will  not  light  my  pipe !  " 

"  Why  not  ?  Nobody's  married  yet.  You've  got 
days  and  weeks  if  you  wish  to  argue  about  that  and 
you'll  be  liking  Dick  better  all  the  time  you're  argu 
ing.  Now  Elsa's  marriage  isn't  the  important  matter 
you've  to  decide  down  here,  at  all.  Light  your  pipe, 
Papa  dear !  You  always  did  give  me  good  advice,  ex 
cept  about  coming  down  here.  Here,  take  a  fresh  box 
of  matches." 

Papa  Wolf,  established  once  more,  Ernest  took  a 
turn  or  two  up  and  down  the  room,  coming  finally  to 
a  stop  before  the  empty  fire  place.  Roger,  looking  at 
his  chum  closely,  realized  suddenly  that  Ernest  had 
aged  in  the  past  few  months.  There  were  lines  around 
his  eyes  and  his  lips.  Ernest  looked  from  his  father  to 
his  mother  with  a  little  smile. 

"  Roger  and  I,  in  spite  of  our  thirty  years,  were  un 
sophisticated  kids  when  we  came  into  this  country.  I 
think  we're  grown  up  now.  I  think  we're  pretty  cer 
tain  to  go  a  straight  and  decent  trail  to  the  end.  But 
that  I  came  mighty  near  to  going  a  forbidden  trail  as 
Roger  calls  it,  is  your  fault,  Papa — and  yours,  Dean 
Erskine." 

He  paused  and  although  the  Dean  and  Ernest's 
father  looked  at  each  other  in  amazement,  neither  in 
terrupted  and  the  younger  man  went  on. 

"  I  never  saw  death  until  I  came  down  here  —  I 
never  knew  love.  I  never  knew  real  work.  But  here 
I  have  learned  all  three.  We  have  lived  here  with  an 
intensity  as  great  as  the  heat.  The  —  the  primal  pas- 


366  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

sions  have  shaken  us,  Papa  —  and  burned  us  clean  — 
You  know  some  creeds  speak  of  Christ's  hours  between 
the  Last  Supper  and  His  death  as  the  passion  of  the 
cross.  Sometimes  I  feel  as  if  I  could  call  my  months 
down  here  my  passion  of  the  desert." 

Again  Ernest  paused,  and  those  who  had  lived  with 
him  through  these  months  of  passion  —  passion  of 
joy,  of  fear,  of  sorrow,  of  love,  of  personal  grief  and 
of  world  pain,  listened  with  astonishment  that  jovial, 
easy-going  Ernest  should  have  felt  as  deeply  as  they. 

"  Mrs.  von  Minden  died  first.  Roger  and  Dick 
found  her  dead  up  in  a  remote  canyon.  She  had 
thirsted  to  death.  I  wrote  Elsa  of  her  but  not  of  her 
death.  That  would  have  set  you  to  worrying  about 
me,  Miitterchen.  She  had  the  little  black  box  with 
her  that  I  wrote  Elsa  she  had  demanded  from  her 
husband.  Whether  she  found  in  it  \vhat  she  wanted 
no  one  will  ever  know.  But  her  death  ended  one  of 
those  strange,  feverish  life  dramas  that  this  trackless 
desert  is  always  turning  up.  Next  they  found  Von 
Minden,  alone  except  for  Peter.  (You  must  meet 
Peter,  Papa.)  He  probably  died  of  heart  failure. 
We  don't  know  how  she  got  the  box  away  from  him. 
Maybe  she  poisoned  him.  And  next  Felicia, —  Felicia 
was  exactly  as  Charley  was,  Mamma,  when  she  used  to 
come  to  play  with  us  in  the  pool." 

Ernest  looked  at  Charley  — "  I've  got  to  talk  about 
her,  Charley,  to  make  them  understand." 

Charley  moistened  her  lips,  but  nodded  and  Dick  put 
his  hand  over  his  eyes. 

"  She  was  like  Charley  too  in  that  she  was  the  kind 
of  a  girl  that  decent  men  instinctively  love  —  not  with 
one  of  these  headlong,  unreasoning  loves,  you  under- 


PAPA  WOLF  367 

stand.  But  with  the  kind  of  a  deep-seated  adoration 
for  beauty  and  goodness  and  brain  that  gets  a  man 
where  he  lives  and  never  leaves  him.  That's  the  way 
I  got  to  caring  for  Charley  and  that's  the  way,  in  em 
bryo,  we  all  loved  Felicia. 

"  In  the  meantime,  you  understand  we  were  all 
working  like  the  very  devil  to  get  the  plant  up  and  the 
alfalfa  in.  I  wrote  home  of  that.  How  difficult  the 
work  here  in  the  desert  was  is  beyond  description. 
And,  what  made  it  more  difficult,  after  the  Smithson 
ian  turned  Roger  down,  he  got  to  working  against 
time,  and  though  he  never  said  much,  he  gave  an  at 
mosphere  of  desperate  hurry  and  worry  to  the  camp, 
that  simply  got  us  all  strung  up  to  the  breaking  point. 
At  intervals,  too,  he  lost  that  famous  temper  of  his. 
These  tempers  upset  Felicia  terribly." 

Roger  filled  his  pipe  with  fingers  that  trembled  a 
little.  But  Ernest  was  staring  out  the  door  now,  with 
eyes  that  saw  nothing. 

"  Dick  varied  the  monotony  two  or  three  times  by 
getting  drunk.  He  is  an  ugly  whelp  when  he's 
drunk.  Once  he  knocked  Charley  down  and  Fe 
licia  saw  it  and  Roger  and  he  mixed  up  over  it  and 
Elsa  finally  straightened  it  out,  and  we  let  him  out  of 
Coventry.  But  the  next  time  he  got  drunk,  Felicia, 
in  her  fright,  ran  away  into  the  desert  and  was  killed 
by  a  rattler.  Charley  and  Roger  found  her.  It  nearly 
killed  us  all.  But  it  cured  Dick  of  drinking  —  that's 
one  reason  why  I'm  telling  you.  Don't  cry,  Mtitter- 
chen." 

"  But  you  have  Charley,  Ernie !  You  have  Char 
ley  !  "  sobbed  his  mother. 

"  No,    I    haven't    Charley.     Roger    has    Charley. 


368  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

None  of  us  deserved  her,  but  Roger  is  nearer  fit  than 
the  rest." 

"  Don't,  Ernest !  "  pleaded  Charley. 

"  I  must,  Charley.  You'll  see  in  a  few  moments 
what  I'm  getting  at.  Well,  Papa,  in  the  meantime, 
there  was  no  money  and  it  looked  as  if  there  would  be 
no  food.  Roger's  plant  didn't  work  out  as  we'd 
planned.  I  wrote  home  the  difficulties  even  of  hang 
ing  a  door.  You  can  picture  Roger  trying  to  build  a 
new  engine  out  of  wire  and  a  string  he  had  tramped  ten 
miles  into  the  ranges  to  find  and  steal.  The  alfalfa 
was  dying  for  lack  of  water  and  there  was  no  adequate 
pumping  system  even  if  we'd  had  adequate  water. 

"  It  was  at  this  point  that  I  decided  to  go  to  Wash 
ington,  Papa,  and  try  the  Smithsonian.  You  would 
have  been  the  one,  naturally,  for  me  to  turn  to,  but 
even  if  I'd  had  the  inclination,  which  I  hadn't,  Roger 
absolutely  wouldn't  stand  for  the  suggestion.  So  I 
went  to  Washington,  all  sort  of  strung  up,  you  under 
stand,  and  in  bad  mental  trim  because  of  —  of  every 
thing.  And  in  Washington  I  got  a  good  swift  kick. 
So  I  went  to  New  York  and  spent  the  rest  of  Elsa's 
good  money  on  Broadway.  It  didn't  take  me  very  far 
but  when  I  went  broke,  I  looked  up  your  friend  Wer 
ner.  This  is  the  point  where  you  come  in  too,  Dean 
Erskine. 

"  Now  I  had  been  brought  up  at  home,  naturally,  to 
worship  all  things  German.  I  liked  to  think  of  myself 
not  as  an  American  but  as  a  German.  At  school,  this 
home  influence  should  have  been  counteracted  if  Amer 
ica  expects  to  make  real  citizens.  But  it  wasn't.  The 
High  School  taught  us  German  and  no  other  modern 
language.  In  college,  all  things  mental  centered  on  the 


PAPA  WOLF  369 

German  idea  in  the  majority  of  the  departments.  And 
your  department  was  the  worst  of  all,  Dean.  You  are 
a  Germanophile  yourself  and  you  taught  your  students 
to  be. 

"  So  behold  me,  calling  on  Werner  and  finding  that 
Werner  among  other  activities  has  been  the  head  of  an 
organized  effort  on  the  part  of  the  German  government 
for  twenty  years  to  Germanize  America  —  through 
schools,  churches,  singing  societies  —  oh,  countless 
ways.  And  he  was  deeply  worried  about  our  British 
sympathies.  And  he  wanted  my  influence  in  the  col 
lege  and  elsewhere  and  he  wanted  Roger's  big  me 
chanical  brain  for  Germany  and  so  he  offered  me  fifty 
thousand  dollars  for  the  Sun  Plant  and  I  took  it." 

"  Fine !     Wonderful !  "  exclaimed  Papa  Wolf. 

"  So  I  thought/'  said  Ernest  dryly,  "  but  Roger  and 
the  others  here  thought  differently.  In  fact  when 
Roger  found  out  about  Werner,  he  tried  to  kill  me,  and 
then  went  away  into  the  mountains  with  Peter  for 
three  days." 

"  Oh,  Ernie !     Oh,  Roger!  "  moaned  Mamma  Wolf. 

Papa  Wolf's  lips  tightened.  "But  why,  Roger?'' 
he  demanded. 

"  Wait,  Roger !  I'm  telling  the  story.  Rog  tried  to 
kill  me  for  selling  out  secretly  the  idea  that  was  bone 
of  his  bone.  He  tried  to  kill  me  because  I  sold  it  to 
a  government  that  has  gone  through  Belgium  like  a 
Hunnish  horde,  and  because  I  claimed  to  admire  it  for 
that.  Well,  he  didn't  kill  me  and  I  was  very  sore  and 
decided  to  go  to  Germany  to  live.  Then  Werner  came 
down  to  settle  details  with  Roger,  and  Roger  told  him 
what  was  in  the  black  box  and  made  him  give  back  the 
contract." 


370  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"The  black  box!  What  black  box?"  asked  Dean 
Erskine. 

"  The  Von  Mindens'  black  box.  When  I  brought 
back  word  that  Werner  wanted  it,  Roger  and  Charley 
read  the  contents.  It  developed  that  Von  Minden  was 
one  of  a  group  working  for  the  German  government 
with  the  idea  of  making  Arizona  and  New  Mexico  into 
German  colonies.  Gustav  —  you  remember  my  writ 
ing  of  Gustav  —  was  Werner's  spy,  keeping  Werner 
informed  of  our  every  move  and  what  he  could  about 
Von  Minden." 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it !  Not  a  word !  It's 
all  British  influence,"  exclaimed  Papa  Wolf  stoutly. 

"  You'll  have  to  believe  it,  because  it's  true,"  re 
turned  Ernest.  "  Roger  was  angry  and  threw  Werner 
and  Gustav  out  of  the  camp  and  made  me  choose  be 
tween  him  and  Werner.  I  chose  Roger,  because  the 
time  had  come  in  my  life  when  I'd  got  to  make  a  tre 
mendous  decision.  It's  one  you've  got  to  make,  Papa, 
and  so  has  the  Dean.  I  wanted  you  to  make  it  my 
way.  That's  why  I  got  you  down  here  to  see  the 
things  that  I'd  been  up  against." 

"  You  don't  intend  to  ask  us  to  break  our  neutral 
ity,  surely,  Ernest,"  protested  Dean  Erskine. 

"  I'll  develop  your  job  in  just  a  moment.  Dean. 
Papa,  what  I  want  is  that  you  repudiate  Werner  and 
all  his  works,  and  undertake  to  finance  Roger's  pro- 
ject." 

"  My  heavens,  Ern !  "  cried  Roger. 

"Tut!  Tut!  Rog  —  you  be  quiet.  Dean,  your  job 
is  to  sell  the  Plant  to  my  father,  after  you've  both  made 
your  decision." 

"  I  cannot  understand  your  talking  to  me  in  this 


PAPA  WOLF  371 

manner,  Ernest,"  shouted  Papa  Wolf,  pounding  on  the 
table  till  the  belated  breakfast  dishes  rattled. 

"  I'll  explain/'  said  Ernest,  imperturbably. 
"  There's  love  of  human  beings.  There's  love  of 
work.  There's  love  of  country.  They  make  up  a 
man's  life.  I  had  the  first  two  and  I  thought  that 
they  were  enough.  But  lately,  I've  discovered  differ 
ently  and  I  think  a  good  many  people  in  this  country 
are  finding  out  the  same  thing.  I  never  gave  the  mat 
ter  any  thought  until  the  Werner  episode.  Then  I  be 
gan  to  examine  this  thing  called  patriotism  and  I  found 
that  it  was  the  very  wellspring  of  a  man's  usefulness 
as  a  citizen.  Without  it  family  pride  is  a  travesty. 
Without  it,  the  impulse  to  build  up  sane  and  humane 
and  lasting  governments  is  lacking.  Without  it,  a  man 
may  be  ever  so  learned,  ever  so  rich,  yet  he  lacks  any 
real  place  in  community  life.  Patriotism  is  to  a  man's 
community  life  what  religion  is  to  his  moral  life. 

"  Now  I  intend  to  lead  a  full,  normal  man's  life. 
I  want  to  love  a  country,  and  I  couldn't  see,  when  I  got 
down  to  brass  tacks,  why  that  country  should  be  Ger 
many.  This  is  the  land  that  bred  me  and  fed  me. 
Actually  I'm  a  physical  part  of  the  soil  of  America. 
What  do  I  care  how  cultured  Germany  may  or  may 
not  be?  Here  in  America  are  the  hills  and  valleys, 
the  rivers  and  mountains  that  I  know  and  care  for. 
Here  is  the  kind  of  government  I  like.  Here  is  the 
place  of  my  profession.  I  wouldn't  marry  a  German 
f raulein  for  anything.  A  slangy,  athletic,  bossy,  saucy, 
\vell-educated  American  girl  for  mine!  All  the  peo 
ple  that  I  love  are  here  in  America.  You  folks  and 
all  the  relatives  are  here.  Roger  is  here,  Charley  is 
here  and  up  there  on  an  American  mountainside  lies 


372  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

little  Felicia.  Papa,  I  am  an  American,  not  a  Ger 
man." 

Again  there  was  full  silence  in  the  room.  Then 
Dean  Erskine  cleared  his  throat.  "  Ernest,  I  want 
to  thank  you  very  much.  I,  too,  am  an  American." 

Papa  Wolf  blew  his  nose  and  walked  slowly  out  of 
the  house.  There  was  no  one  in  the  room  who  had 
not  been  moved  deeply  by  the  something  poignant  in 
Ernest's  face,  even  though  .his  voice  was  so  sedulously 
casual.  Before  any  one  else  had  opportunity  to  speak 
however,  Papa  Wolf  was  back. 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  about  Werner,"  he  said  to 
Ernest.  "  But  I  am  surprised,  Ernest,  after  your  up 
bringing  that  you  should  have  deceived  Roger  as  you 
did." 

"But  are  you  an  American,  Papa?"  persisted  Er 
nest. 

"  You  numb-skull !  "  shouted  his  father.  "  I  have 
been  an  American  longer  than  you  have  hairs  to  your 
head.  It's  my  land,  even  if  I  am  sentimental  about 
Germany." 

Once  more  he  marched  out  the  door. 

"  Come,  Dean,  and  see  the  Plant,"  said  Roger.  The 
Dean  rose  with  alacrity  and  bumped  into  Papa  Wolf, 
who  came  in  again  shaking  his  head. 

"  I  don't  see,  Ernie,  how  you  could  have  treated 
Roger  so.  Of  course,  I  think  he's  crazy  and  all  his 
works.  But  I've  always  loved  him,  though  I  was  and 
am  very  mad  at  him  for  bringing  you  down  here.  I 
don't  see  how  you  could  have  done  it." 

"  I  thought  I  owed  it  to  Germany  and  that  it  would 
help  him.  You  forget  my  German  superman  upbring 
ing." 


PAPA  WOLF  373 

"  I'll  look  at  the  Plant,  of  course,"  said  Papa  Wolf, 
"  just  to  see  what  you  have  wasted  your  life  blood  on. 
But  not  one  cent  of  money,  boys." 

"  I  don't  want  your  money,  sir,"  exclaimed  Roger, 
proudly. 

"  You  don't  eh!  Then  we're  all  satisfied,"  returned 
Ernest's  father,  following  the  Dean  out  of  the  door. 

The  last  place  inspected  was  the  engine  house. 
Ernest  made  a  simple  explanation  of  the  machinery 
while  the  Dean  went  over  the  engine  almost  as  lovingly 
and  keenly  as  Roger  would  have.  Then  Roger  led  the 
Dean  back  to  the  porch  for  a  talk. 

"  So  this  is  the  result  of  all  your  years  of  work,  eh, 
Ernie?  "  said  Papa  Wolf.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  that 
you  made  that  machine  out  of  your  own  head?  " 

"I  only  helped  Roger,"  replied  Ernest,  "but  it 
means  a  lot  to  me.  Father,  this  solar  work  of  ours 
will  be  recorded  in  history  as  the  beginning  of  a  new 
harnessing  of  energy." 

The  older  man  looked  at  his  son  with  interest. 
''  You  should  have  taken  the  trouble  to  explain  all  this 
to  me,  years  ago,  my  son." 

"  I  know  it,"  replied  Ernest.  "  Well,  anyhow,  I've 
done  my  bit  down  here.  When  you  go  back  I'll  go 
back  with  you.  I'm  a  teacher,  not  a  pioneer." 

Papa  Wolf  seized  both  of  Ernest's  hand.  "No! 
Really!  Ernest,  you  really  will  go  on  with  the  pro 
fessorship  !  Then  I  am  satisfied.  But  we  must  not  let 
this  work  be  in  vain.  This  child  of  your  mind,  Ernest, 
it  must  be  recorded.  It  will  help  you  in  your  profes 
sorship,  eh  ?  " 

Ernest  nodded.  "  It's  really  a  great  thing,  father. 
Roger  has  a  wonderful  mind." 


374  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  He's  got  a  good  mind,  yes,  but  I'm  asking  you 
where  would  he  have  been  all  these  years  without  my 
boy?  O  Ernie!  Ernie!  You've  taken  ten  years  off 
me !  Now,  you  let  me  think.  I'll  sit  and  watch  this 
engine  of  yours.  You  go  along  about  your  work, 
Ernie."  And  Ernest,  a  tired  look  in  his  eyes,  went 
along  as  he  was  bidden. 

It  was  dinner  time  before  the  tour  of  inspection  was 
done.  Mamma  Wolf  spent  the  morning,  after  a  nap, 
helping  the  girls  to  prepare  a  huge  dinner.  She  and 
Elsa  wept  a  little  on  each  other's  necks,  and  Mamma 
JWolf  promised  to  take  Dick  to  her  heart  and  love  him 
as  another  son.  And  somehow  Elsa  put  full  faith  in 
Ernest's  bringing  his  father  around. 

No  one  talked  business  or  politics  at  dinner.  There 
were  many  details  of  the  camp  life  to  be  told  and  many 
stories  of  the  Von  Mindens  that  invariably  brought 
Papa  Wolf  to  the  verge  of  apoplexy  with  laughter. 
Ernest  never  had  been  more  charming  than  he  was 
now.  And  by  some  magic  of  his  own,  he  drew 
Dick  out  to  tell  the  story  of  his  turquoise  mining. 
Like  almost  any  story  of  desert  endeavor  it  was  full 
of  drama,  of  quiet  heroism,  and  of  weird  humor. 
Papa  and  Mamma  Wolf  hung  breathless  on  every  word 
of  it. 

"Himmel! "  exclaimed  Papa  at  the  end,  "  if  I  were 
thirty  years  younger,  I'd  like  just  such  adventuring!" 
The  others  looked  at  one  another  and  smiled. 

When  the  long  dinner  hour  was  over,  Papa  Wolf 
lighted  his  meerschaum.  "  And  now  let's  look  at  that 
engine  again.  You  should  come  and  see  it,  Mamma. 
Run  by  sunshine  and  almost  as  silent  as  the  sun  and 
powerful  like  it.  Wonderful!  Wonderful!  " 


PAPA  WOLF  375 

"  You've  hardly  looked  at  the  alfalfa,  Papa,"  said 
Ernest. 

"  Plenty  of  time  for  that.  One  thing  at  a  time. 
Come  along,  Dean.  If  you  should  explain  that  engine 
through  to  me  two  or  three  times  more,  I'll  understand 
it.  Ernest  and  Roger,  they  never  thought  to  take  old 
Papa  to  see  the  working  model  at  the  University. 
They  thought  because  I  was  a  fool  about  the  working 
drawings,  I  knew  nothing.  Come  on,  Dean!  Come 
along." 

Seated  on  two  up-ended  boxes  before  the  engine,  the 
two  gray  headed  men  spent  the  afternoon.  The  Dean 
could  have  been  enticed  away  to  examine  the  alfalfa 
and  the  pumping  system.  But  not  Papa.  He  went 
out  at  intervals  to  look  at  the  absorber  and  to  read  the 
thermometer  at  the  oil  storage  pit,  then  back  to  the 
engine. 

"  And  this  is  what  Ernie  has  been  working  on  for  all 
these  years.  And  I  never  could  get  it  through  my  old 
head." 

"  Ernest  and  Roger  too,"  the  Dean  would  suggest. 

"  Of  course,  Roger.  But  you  know  Ernest  and  his 
fine  mind.  Observe  now,  Dean,  out  there  the  parch 
ing,  cruel  sun,  that  strikes  and  kills.  Here  Ernest's 
magic,  this  silent  machine  that  catches  that  sun  and 
turns  its  death  kiss  into  life.  And  out  there,  where 
the  honey  bees  buzz,  the  magic  made  vital.  My  boy's 
brain  did  such  miracles  and  I  never  knew  it  until 
now.  I  even  forbade  him  the  house  when  he  insisted 
on  giving  birth  to  his  idea." 

The  others  drifted  in  and  out  and  at  last  the  supper 
hour  came  and  once  more  the  clan  gathered  at  the 
familiar  table. 


376  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

"  Why,  Papa,  I  haven't  seen  you  with  such  appetite 
or  with  such  spirits  since  last  Christmas,"  said 
Mamma. 

'  You  haven't  seen  me  with  such  cause.  And  how 
mad  I  was  when  I  came  • —  eh,  Mamma !  " 

:'  You  know,  Papa,"  said  Ernest,  "  we  never  could 
have  put  over  the  Plant  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the 
Prebles.  I  swear  Charley  has  fed  us  and  Dick  has 
guided  us  and  had  faith  in  us  when  it  seemed  as  if  the 
whole  world  outside  had  turned  us  down." 

"  Is  it  so?  "  exclaimed  Papa  as  if  realizing  that  fact 
for  the  first  time.  "  So  you  stood  by  my  boy,  eh, 
Dick  ?  Well,  that's  good !  My  boy  has  stood  by  you 
and  so  will  I.  Now  listen,  boys.  Why  can't  I  do  a  lit 
tle  adventuring,  eh?  Let's  make  this  a  thousand  acre 
Plant.  And  the  Dean  says  that  this  engine  will  put 
every  other  low  temperature,  high  speed  engine  off  the 
market.  Why  not  build  some  and  sell  them,  eh?  " 

"  But  Mr.  Wolf,"  said  Roger.  "  I  haven't  felt  as 
if  you  ought  to  put  money  in.  If  anything  should  go 
wrong  and  you  should  lose  by  it,  I'd  never  forgive 
myself." 

Papa  Wolf  put  his  hand  on  Roger's  knee.  "  Roger, 
I've  known  you  since  you  were  born  and  I  loved  your 
father.  He  died  a  disappointed  man.  When  I  think 
of  the  things  Ernie  said  this  morning  I  realize  that 
perhaps  if  I'd  been  a  better  patriot  I  wouldn't  have  let 
a  man  so  valuable  to  the  community  die  a  disappointed 
man.  Now  you're  an  even  more  valuable  man  than 
your  father  was,  and  so  is  Ernest.  Shall  I  wait  for 
outsiders  to  do  for  my  son  and  your  father's  son  ?  Or 
shall  I  help  you  organize  so  as  to  develop  this  hot 
country  for  America?  And  again  I  did  my  only  son 


PAPA  WOLF  377 

an  unkindness  in  not  understanding  his  work  —  almost 
a  fatal  unkindness.  Suppose  he  had  left  us  for  Ger 
many.  Shall  I  not  make  it  up  to  him?  And  lastly, 
my  son  treated  you  dishonorably.  Shall  he  and  I  not 
together  try  to  make  it  up?  " 
.  Roger's  tense  face  worked.  - 

"  Now,  don't  speak !  I  know  how  you  feel,"  cried 
Papa.  "  Now  I  have  more  than  enough  tucked  away 
for  Mamma  and  me.  And  I  have  two  friends,  one  in 
the  brewery,  one  in  the  bank.  We  can  organize  a 
company.  We  have  Dick's  ranch  and  the  turquoise 
mine  and  Ernest's  and  your  plant.  We  can  get  plenty 
of  money.  I'll  make  all  those  Mannerchors  come 
down  here.  We'll  irrigate  this  whole  desert.  We'll 
open  up  mines  —  we'll  - 

He  got  up  to  pace  the  floor.  "  Why  there's  an  em 
pire  here  for  Uncle  Sam  that  the  Reclamation  Service 
can't  handle.  We'll  do  it." 

"  Roger  has  talked  of  Asia  Minor,"  said  Dick,  with 
twinkling  eyes. 

"  Well,  we'll  tackle  that  later,"  replied  Papa 
dreamily.  "  America  is  a  good  field.  Dean,  are  you 
coming  in  with  us  ?  " 

"  Thanks,"  returned  the  Dean.  "  But  Ernest  and  I 
have  another  job,  fighting  furor  Teutonicns  up  at  the 
university.  But  I'll  be  on  hand  for  such  advice  as  I 
can  give." 

"  I  think,"  Papa  went  on  after  a  brisk  nod,  "  we'll 
spend  a  month  or  so  down  here,  Mamma  and  I.  Ernest, 
you  can  go  on  up  and  open  the  house  and  we'll  be  back 
^fter  Christmas.  If  all  works  well,  I'll  have  to  spend 
a  part  of  each  year  down  here.  Dick,  can't  you  get 
|hose  Indians  you  talk  of  to  build  Mamma  and  Ernie 


3?8  THE  FORBIDDEN  TRAIL 

and  me  a  little  house,  near  by?  Then  you  and  Elsa 
can  have  this  and  Charley  and  Roger  must  build  them 
a  little  nest  somewhere.  And  we  all  are  fixed,  see !  " 

There  was  a  little  pause,  then  Elsa  ran  across  the 
room  and  threw  herself  in  her  father's  arms.  "  Oh, 
Papa!  Papa!  I  never  knew  what  a  saint  you  were 
until  now." 

Papa  Wolf  smoothed  Elsa's  hair  tenderly.  "  I  still 
think  you  are  a  fool,  Elschen.  But  if  your  mother  and 
I  are  down  here  to  watch  closely  —  the  very  first  time, 
sir,"  he  glared  at  Dick,  "  that  I  find  — " 

"  You  won't  have  to  do  anything,  Mr.  Wolf,"  said 
Dick.  "  I'll  cut  my  throat." 

"  Don't  talk  silly,"  exclaimed  Papa.  "  Just  try  to 
be  a  good  boy  and  we'll  help.  Of  course,  I  think  Elsa 
is  a  fool  but  I  thought  Ernest  was  one  and  now  look !  " 

The  Dean  slipped  out,  unobserved  and  a  moment 
later  Charley  whispered  to  Roger, 

"  Let's  get  out  and  let  Dick  have  his  chance  to  clear 
everything  up." 

And  so  Roger  and  Charley  found  themselves  alone, 
under  the  stars. 

"  I  just  can't  realize  it,  at  all,  can  you,  Roger 
dearest?  "  asked  Charley. 

Roger  did  not  answer  for  a  moment.  They  were 
standing  beside  the  corral,  looking  toward  the  shadowy 
mountainside  where  lay  Felicia's  grave. 

"  I  wish  I  could  believe  she  saw  and  knew  every 
thing,"  he  said,  brokenly.  Then  as  Charley  said 
nothing,  he  turned  and  took  her  in  his  arms  with  a 
sudden  passion  that  found  expression  in  hot  kisses  and 
half  broken  sentences. 

"Oh,    Charley!    Charley!     After    all    I'm    not    a 


PAPA  WOLF  379 

failure.  I  am  —  Darling,  you  do  love  me,  you  are 
sure  of  that  — !  How  beautiful  you  are!  How 
beautiful!  You  are  as  lovely  as  the  desert.  God, 
Charley,  but  I'm  happy !  " 

Charley,  clinging  to  him  speechlessly,  finally  raised 
her  head,  and  looked  with  Roger  across  the  desert  night 
of  silence  and  blue,  while  the  rich  sense  of  space,  of 
mystery,  of  heaven  very  near  and  life's  bitternesses  far 
away  touched  them  both  at  once.  And  Peter,  a  wisp 
of  cat's  claw  hanging  from  his  mouth,  rubbed  his 
patient  head  affectionately  against  Roger's  arm. 


THE   END 


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Morrow,  H.M.W.  0764 

The  forbidden  trail.         F6 


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